Random dribble on a Sunday night

She had good feet she decided. It wasn't that she often pondered her feet it was just that tonight while watching tv from her well worn groove in the couch with her feet up on the coffee table, the light had seemed to catch her feet just right for noticing. They were young. Younger than her hands. Her Abuelo used to tell her that she could be a hand model. It's true that she had long fingers with nails that could be kept short or grown long at her whim, but lines and wrinkles were starting to appear under her mother's and grandmother's rings. There were freckles and scars now and fingers that swelled when it was too hot and shrunk when it was too cold. The callouses had never left though. She had thought with age and years removed from shoveling horse crap they would disappear, but they remained, eternal reminders of a childhood spent around big animals and wheel barrows.

Her feet were cold and she rubbed them together in the light cast from the tv. She wiggled and squeezed her toes together this way and that admiring the tendons and popping joints in her toes. They were good feet with long toes that she used to pick things up when she was too lazy or too stiff to bend over and grab. She liked her useful monkey toes. She remembered when she had to do her chores on weekends and would walk around picking up the living room using just her toes. She much preferred using her feet to her hands, which perhaps made the seeming youth of her feet that much more surprising.

All these years and they were still smooth and pale not showing the lines that should be there from the summer she lived and studied in Hawaii when she lived in flip flops and burned the tops of her feet so badly that she thought the lines from her shoes had been tattooed in UV. The colors had eventually faded but she was left with a perfectly round, tiny brown freckle right between her second and third toes on her left foot. Aaron had liked to kiss that spot. One day while he had been tickling her there with his tongue she had scoffed at him for kissing her future cancer spot. He had smacked her lightly and resumed his attentions saying that it was his spot - that he was claiming it - and that it was perfectly adorable and not malignant in the least. He had named it Dorothy. She smiled and spread out her toes making Dorothy dance. She missed Aaron. She had never had another man claim a spot on her body. The fleeting thought that perhaps he might come to collect Dorothy someday crossed her mind. What a crazy thing to think, she thought.

With a final glance at her feet she went back to watching tv. Yes, they were good feet.