Dear pain-in-my-feet: I’m sorry we ever met. Remind me where I made your acquaintance? Oh, yes—on my February trip to Death Valley, where I assumed long days of hiking had caused a rock bruise.
Instead of healing, you got worse and jumped to the other foot, too. Thanks for the reminder. It helps. Because I was there in the Valley to grieve my dead sweetheart, Tony, with rituals and tears and a personal funeral.
I hate being forced to walk this earth without him. So I see you now for what you really are—grief and longing and fury that my soles keep on treading.
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