Barefoot

As a kid, I'd run around the neighborhood in summer without shoes. (Remember this is Phoenix and the asphalt was HOT!) In high school theater, my "job" involved a lot of running up and down stairs with treads that were almost spikes, something I did without shoes. I didn't want to wear shoes to my wedding, but Hart was afraid that the "barefoot and pregnant" jokes would be nonstop. I could go on, but I think you get the point: I hate wearing shoes.

Oh how I felt like I'd come home when I saw all the shoeless people all around me in New Zealand. They were in the grocery store, walking down the street and kayaking. There are no signs on doors that say, "No shoes, no service." We even passed a school when the kids were getting out for the day and at least half were barefoot. Glorious!

I have worn shoes a lot more this trip that I imagined I would, but the first thing I did at tonight's holiday park was remove my shoes and sprawl in the grass. With the sun streaming through the tree above me and the soft, warm clover under my feet, I was blissful.