Instead I move over to the grass. It's still early enough that dew drops remain on each blade, waiting to be melted off, licking my sore feet as I drag them along in the coolness of it all.
I spent all of last summer that way. Barefoot on the sidewalk, grass, hilltops. Barefoot everywhere. Racing up the dirt pathway to see who could see the sunset first, and leaving our shoes far behind. We ran through the nights in the company of the every-so-often streetlight, giving the world a yellowish tint.
We ran marathons, we hiked hikes, we splashed through rivers and tromped through the remaining snow. We smiled a lot and laughed even more, and the majority of it all was absolute bliss. I spent the summer with some of the best people around.
Those raw feet told stories. They held memories. With each scrape, with each blister, with each line of dirt, something had happened to put it there. Each came from a step that I had taken, a place that I had been. Each came from running around and playing make-believe, they came from chasing after dreams and ambitions. They came from chasing memories, too.
Last summer was an adventure.
The summer adventure is just around the corner, and I wonder what it will have in store for me this year. A little classes, a whole lot of Econ, some settling into a new home, and a lot of friend making. An airplane flight, far too much humidity, and a home without air conditioning. Mosquitoes and fireflies, some big bears, and the occasional woodchuck sightings.
I'm not entirely sure what this summer has in store for me. But I sure hope it involves raw feet, the soles blacked with stories and adventures.
Conference Weekly here.