Barefoot Errands

Every so often, I loved going shoeless to the grocery or the pharmacy. What a pleasant prospect, like my acquaintance at the IGA, to go barefooted to the store and enjoy a cheerful respite from a hot summer day. I went inside, took a cart, and began  the journey through familiar aisles. The cold air at the frozen food displays felt wonderful. At the end of the errand, unless I became self-conscious, having no shoes assuaged the aggravation of a slow checkout line.

One day, I left my dorm room in my bare feet and drove to a favorite store for supplies. Down at the block of campus shops, I found a good parking spot, padded into the store, navigated the aisles with soft steps, and purchased my items. I felt happy at a completed chore, and what fun to feel that airy lightness around my feet! Returning to campus, I encountered a friend who loved to talk. He saw me first—arrgh! But I’m too tenderhearted to brush people off, especially a friend. Walking along, I carried my purchases, watched my toes stroll, and said uh huh, uh huh as my friend reported on his day and week.

Another time, during a similar morning errand, I regretted dashing into a pharmacy, because the store was undergoing remodeling, shelves were moved, and I didn’t want to step on anything sharp. “Can I help you?” asked the manager, and figuring I was “busted”, I said I was looking for a certain product but couldn’t find it. He was helpful, and as it turned out, he didn’t know where the product was either! I followed him up and down aisles, with the incongruous thud of my footsteps upon the linoleum, and we finally located the item. Thank you, Mr. Manager, for your patience and your helpfulness!

Still another time, I happened into a woman who was padding through a drug store. I commented that she had a great idea. She agreed, stating that she had to wear steel-toed shoes at work and was glad to get them off!