Long days standing backstage, walking miles all over New York City, wearing uncomfortable dress shoes, or no shoes at all in hot sand or pokey grass. They’ve been sunburned and zebra striped. I’ve had blisters the size of quarters. The first time I worked the Macy’s Parade, I couldn’t get to sleep that night because my feet were throbbing. I’ve put my feet through a lot, but they’ve never let me down.
I’m grateful for the places my feet have stood, the way they’ve carried me, and the excitement I feel for the places we’ll go next.
When I lived in Vanuatu, they would call their feet the “truck of Adam.” I may not have a car, but I have the truck of Adam.
And I’m going places.