I don't know what it is about my babies' feet! There's something so magical and captivating about those little toes lined up like peas in a pod, the skin tight across that bony little heal, that pinky toe reaching out for who knows what! And then that little fatty cushion that forms on top signaling growth and health and life. The softness that was fresh from the womb now becomes a bit rougher as those feet explore and step and slide and climb. The feet that were once silent now pitter-pat
The feet that could only kick involuntarily now run and kick and jump on purpose. I cannot change a diaper or undress my baby without taking those little feet into my hands, absorbing each tiny inch of them, stroking them against my cheek, just taking them in like a deep breath of fresh air. I know my babies' feet like the back of my hand, where each wrinkle and crease is, the shape and bend of each tiny toe. If only I could cement those tiny feet into my mind for soon those feet are too busy for studying, too big for absorbing, too active climbing trees and chasing puppies and riding bikes, as they should be.
And so I take her little feet once more, possess them, while I can. For just as feet that have gone before her have, they will grow and get busy and my time for absorbing her little peas lined up in a row will be gone.
Oh, how blessed I am, how very thankful I am, for the eight little feet that I've studied, embraced, cradled, soaked in and treasured.