As I pulled on my wool socks and headed to the unheated kitchen to make some breakfast this morning, the ice-cold floor made me really pay attention to my feet.  Maybe I should have gone back for shoes; but instead I stayed and washed up a few lingering dishes before measuring out the oatmeal.

Since all of this can be done on autopilot, and since my feet were demanding my attention, my thoughts wandered to footprints.  It must have been the cold floor that did it.  I remembered looking out into the still-falling snow on Wednesday and seeing no signs of life except four footprints from the road to the mailbox.  The mailman had managed to deliver in spite of the weather!  I guess what they say about rain and snow and dark of night must be true.  I thought about how reassuring it was to see those footprints at a time when we felt cut off and isolated from the rest of the world.  Then I thought about the bunny tracks across the back yard and the trail left by a wandering raccoon.  I hardly ever see these creatures in winter, but their footprints tell me they have paid a visit.

I started thinking about footprints and the way they linger after we leave and remind people that we’ve paid a visit and moved on.  What kind of footprints do I want to leave in my world today?  Will I wear my hobnail boots and stomp through life, leaving destruction as my legacy?  Will I track my own dirt through an unspoiled place and leave sadness and regret in my wake?  Will I put on my dancing shoes and leave a trail that will conjure memories of love and delight?  It’s a choice we make each time we raise a foot and prepare to walk.  When I think of the young ones who follow along, I see childhood memories of walking in another set of footprints so that nobody would know there were two of us walking.  What a responsibility it is to leave a trail!  When someone comes upon mine and walks in the prints I’ve left, I hope they will dance.  As for me, I plan to tread gently today.