Grocery Store Feet

“Turn on the hose and wash off. You’ve got grocery store feet,” my mother told me every day of summer during my childhood.

Most of my summer days were spent outside. I would be sent outside when the sun came up, instructed to stay within yelling distance, had to come home for lunch and the inspection (any open wounds that needed Band-aids?) and then sent back out until the sun went down.

I’m not sure if I left the house wearing shoes. Maybe I did and I kicked them off as soon as I got out of the yard? I’m not positive. But, by the time I came dragging up to the back porch to get hosed off BEFORE getting a bath, I was always barefoot.

My torn clothes, tangled hair, mud smeared face, those things never seemed to be quite as big of a deal as my feet – my grocery store feet.

This meant that it looked like I had walked around in the grocery store barefoot. Before everything was so sanitary, the floor of the grocery store was awfully dirty.

IF I had gotten particularly filthy (which meant I had an incredibly great day!), then I was told it looked like I had stood outside and kicked the curb all day. My feet would be scratched up, muddy, coated in dirt – we’re talking layers.

Spring time and mud holes outside – I’m getting nostalgic for grocery store feet.

photo credit: DazMSmith via photopin cc
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About melindamcguirewrites

The young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. ------ William Faulkner, Nobel Prize Speech, Stockholm, 1950
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