It was summer. The sky the deepest blue, the ocean an inviting blue-green, and the sand white, coarse, and wonderful. I stood in the rays of the setting sun, the surf up to my ankles slowly burying my feet. Sand crabs wiggled around my toes and a laugh escaped my lips. It was the feeling of being free. Completely unencumbered in any way imaginable, I stared out at the sheer vastness of the water praying the night would not come, otherwise the cops would come down the beach and forcibly remove me. But alas, time did not freeze this day and I reluctantly followed my family back to the beach house.

We had returned to our hot, humid home and it was as good a time as any to walk through the defiantly green grass with no shoes at all. The texture of the earth supported my every step as I explored the ever expanding yard. Even ants crawling across my feet did not dampen my spirits; rather it was calming; the punctual pattern soothed wary emotions and my worries till they floated away on the breeze. I absently checked my watch and hastened inside to get ready for work.

"I don't know how it started," I told the doctor through pursed lips, "All I know is that when I take a single step pain shoots through my foot like fire across dead grass." The doctor continued to poke and prod my appendages, wiggling my toes, testing the flexibility of my feet. I attempted to hide my anger with an impassive mask but I feared what she was to say. Nothing was wrong with my toes, I was fine. I just needed a medical release to stay off my feet, that's all I required.

At last she shook her head and let my feet fall still, dangling above the linoleum in the dismal white room. She wrote something down on a pad of paper and quietly informed me to take it to the receptionist to ensure a follow-up meeting. I didn't read the paper; I looked into her melancholy eyes and saw sympathy radiating from her irises. "I'm sorry," she said briskly yet in a gentle manner, "You must always wear shoes from now on. You can never go barefoot again."

It was the summer next. I resided on the beach again gazing at the water, but I found no beauty in the crashing waves. I sat at the base of a dune, far from the water, failing to wonder what was out of my sight in the ocean blue. There was just water and plants and animals. No majesty in the sandbar, the small fish that came close to shore, or the way the water twinkled in the sun like thousands of diamond lay on the surface. They were all meaningless, without color. I turned my head to avoid their lifeless decorum. Everywhere my eyes fell, there were people of every age, size, race, and gender enjoying the day. And everywhere my eyes fell, on every person, shoes were nonexistent. Children buried their parents feet in the sand, toddlers and octogenarians alike splashed in the surf, young men and women lounged in chairs, absorbing the sun's rays.

I tucked my knees under my chin and glared at my sneakers. On the beach of all things! The only time one should wear tennis shoes on the beach is when they're running. I remained still, refusing to join my family in a game of baseball or in kite-flying. Neither held my attention. Nor did I want them too. All I wanted was to run across the scorching sand to the relief of the water; to dive headfirst into the waves, to brush my feet along the sandbar in search of crabs and shells. Only then would the beach feel wonderful again. But I sat dormant under an umbrella, shielded from the sun's harsh glare until natural shadows covered me.  

My family had long since gone back to the beach house, I opted to stay behind. The world, once so beautiful, had lost its sparkle; but it could possibly be regained. I quickly glanced to my left and right, feeling foolish for doing so; my doctor would not follow me to make sure I kept to the cruel regime she issued; I had given her my word I would follow her orders. I hastily untied my shoes and extracted my feet out of my socks. The salty air assaulted my toes with a rigor unimaginable. The feeling was alien and welcomed simultaneously. My feet appeared to have shrunk in the months they were confined to the unyielding cages of my sneakers. A fine line ran transverse around my ankle, testimony to the time my feet had not seen the sun.

The sight angered me and I thrust my feet into the sand, savoring the rough grains pressing upon my skin. Without another thought, I propelled myself from the dune and raced toward the water stumbling along the uneven surface of the sand. I stopped just shy of the waves balancing on the tips of my toes, reveling in the utter freedom of the moment. For the first time in a long time a smile crept across my face. I don't know how much time I stood there, just at the edge of the water staring at my feet.

Finally I looked up at the water. In the setting sun, the ocean looked captivating. I could not tear my eyes from the majesty of the crashing waves, the rushing water. I cautiously dipped my toes in the cool ocean. For so long I had been denied any kind of recreation that allowed my feet to be uncovered, exposed to the elements. This felt wonderful.

Foam collected at the back of my heels and sand crabs once again meandered across my bare feet; it felt like heaven. Laughing I launched myself parallel to the mighty sea, running and splashing in the shallow water, constructing small arcs of salt water; these drops of water formed rainbows that suspended themselves in the air, twisting gracefully until their magnificent colors became obscured.

I had run the full length of the beach before I considered stopping. I paused at the jetty, contemplating what I had just done. My parents would be disappointed, my podiatrist enraged. I did not care. Tossing my head back I locked eyes with the purple clouds and said a silent prayer of thanks. The freedom and wonder had returned to my life with this one moment of defiance.

I did not intend to go back to the dune I had resigned myself to all day but I knew I must. Instead of dragging my feet, I took each step with care, walking in a straight line with one foot in front of the other. It was a faster return trip that way but I could not ruin this freedom with careless footsteps, I wouldn't allow it. When I arrived perpendicular to the dune, I halted my march and faced the endless ocean, gazing beyond the horizon and watched the water darken with each minute that passed. The waves crashed over my feet one last time and I walked confidently to my discarded shoes. 

A thought came to me as I double-knotted my laces: I could always defy the commands of my doctor and leave my shoes off all the time. I quickly dismissed the idea, it was foolhardy and childish. I listened to the rhythm of my chunky shoes as I strolled to the beach house, not regretting my decision one bit.

For how could I appreciate the freedom of bare feet if I was that way all the time?