As we wended our weary way home from Chicago on the Metra yesterday evening, I watched a lot of honest hard working people trudge wearily on their feet, up and into the train, they would sit heavily, some of them looked to me to be way past the age that they should be working. They would take their belongings and arrange the handles around their wrists, cross their arms and fall straight to sleep, so completely in tune with their travel home that they would awake a few minutes before their stop, nod wordlessly to the fellows they had slept beside and slip silently down the train steps and out into the dimming light.
As the train picked up speed and moved away from the platform I would watch these people hurry, sometimes even hobble, for the exits. I kept them in my eyes as long as I could – I don’t know why. An old feeling I have always had that my minds eye can lift some of the weight from their tired old feet. I would have my angels to lift them off their feet for a moments respite. Those poor feet. 
It is OK to put lotion on our hands, or rub them together, or even inspect our nails in public. But I have yet to see anyone attend to their feet in a public place. Feet are viewed with distaste, they are not socially acceptable, they are hidden inside sensible shoes and socks. Or really insensible shoes. They are smelly and cracked and sometimes even (God help us all) – Dirty. They are not to be touched in public. To tend to ones tired feet in a public place is akin to scratching ones bottom or flicking your (riding-up) knickers back into place as you walk across a pedestrian crossing, or even (horrors) touching your nostrils.
Your feet will take you wherever you ask them to go. These small long suffering feet carry our entire bodies along the riverside of life. Tiny in comparison with the mass of flesh that relies on them, our poor much maligned feet are consigned to be seen but not heard.
Poor feet.
Go on! Kick your shoes off, pick up those poor old feet, lay one across your knee, massage in that lotion and say Thank you Feet. I will not hide you away like a Mad relative anymore.
But I know that if I said any of that to those respectable working men and women from the train they would look at me in horror and flee from me on their hurrying beleagured feet. Muttering about foreigners and the like. Foot -Touchers!
I hope you have had a lovely day.
My team is beginning to hum today. We always need a good week to find the new rhythm. And we have found it I think. This week will be a big one!
Love your friend on the farmy,
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
44 responses to “Time for Feet”
I used to be one of those people on a train, sometimes a bus. So glad those days are behind me. Best wishes to you, c, for a lovely and peaceful day with your new friends.
What are those little dongles on Tima and Tane’s necks? Are they like the things that goats have? I’ve never noticed them before!
I was wondering the same thing…first time to notice them in that sweet picture.
Wattles
Those dangly things are also called tassels, wattles and piri piri.
Yes! Thank you – c
… Thank you for the smiles and laughter… Burt’s Bees makes a wonderful peppermint foot cream ❤ !!
Have you ever tried to calculate how many miles your feet walk in a day/week/month? Missed you yesterday. Laura
That sounds scary! c
That almost sounds like an advert for Dr. Scholl’s, though pictures of pigs makes me think of trotters 😉
I’m so grateful to be past the long hours I stood on train platforms, the weary trudge from the station in snow, frost, wind, rain and baking city heat, the feet so sore I was almost crying by the time I got home. Now that I live a barefoot life in a hot climate, my feet are cherished, free to breathe, scrubbed and anointed. I’m sending up a little thought tonight for everyone with sore, tired, hot and cramped feet.
Oh those terrible commuter trains, with tired folk jostling each other willy nilly. That used to be me, and I’m so glad that I no longer have to endure it.
Lovely piggy pictures today – lucky piggies to have a Celie to make their lives good!
love,
ViVxox
OH, how I would love to sink my teeth into that chicken thigh! YUM!
OH – I know all about ACHY FEET! I have had bad feet since I was a child who had to wear leg braces at age 2. I have been a huge participant in pedicures, lotion on my feet and I would wear shoe boxes instead of shoes if I could. Even here to work – I wear the most sensible flat shoes possible!!! TAKE CARE OF YOUR FEET!!!! Because when they hurt – you whole body hurts!
Yes and it shows on your face when your feet hurt! c
Hopping on the Metra now. Lighter on my feet today. Four more.
Wonderful! Three now! c
Your social observations of feet are spot on Miss C, and I will admit, no matter how hard they work and how much we should appreciate them, I do find feet to be rather ugly, although some decent toe polish does help a bit 😉
My mother always said that feet were the only ugly part of any human’s body… looking at my own, I have to agree with her. Even polish would not suffice to have them visible 🙂
This introspective piece reminds of the immigrant feet running running running yesterday through the cornfield toward freedom. If only we could lift their burdens.
So true, about our feet. They need to be taken good care of. We should cherish them. Your thought of the miles of hard work that is experienced every day in this world boggles the mind.
Love the pic of your roasted chicken. Raised our own chickens for years. We know how much work you did. Also know just how tasty it was.
Have a great day on the farm.
Oh and these ones are super tasty! c
What lovely prose, really. I have often thought how abused and mistreated our feet are… it’s a thankless job they do. My first experience on a commuter train was on a trip to Boston where FD and I had to rely on public transportation for every outing. I saw so many defeated looking people… tired – just going through the motions. Older men with soot on their faces and clothing, carrying lunch boxes, a deadpan look on their faces. I realize how lucky I am not to have lived in a city. And to think as a young girl, that was the life I yearned for! Ha ha! So much for young and stupid! 🙂
It is a revelation and a reminder.. c
For decades I rode our local bus to work and over time it was like a little community as we bumped along the 12 mile ride. Some were weary and very worn around the edges from life and circumstances. Back then before all the electronic devices that prevent communication we would chat and tell stories and laugh. It was a good way to go to and from work.
Sounds lovely.. do you think buses were happier than the underground? They seem friendlier in a way.. c
I love the insights of your philosopher self. Your writing is so deep and thought provoking. It’s wonderful to find one’s rhythm again. I’m trying to find mine as well and I will attend to my feet with extra care today. Have a wonderful day.