I have never worn flip flops and with good reason, the same reason I don’t iron clothes: I am terrible at it. My inability to walk in flip flops has only increased since my vision loss. The sole time I wear them is when I get a pedicure.
Keeping my sneakers on until it was time to leave to go to the nail salon last week, I changed into flip flops, tentatively and unnaturally, tentatively traversing the 12 stairs down to the main floor of my home. After gathering a jacket and my purse, I repeated the measured descent from the top of the 14 steps from my front porch to he sidewalk where our car was parked. Sister Rain in flip flops is the reason handrails were invented.
As my husband drove me to my appointment, I noticed that my right flip flop had come off. Inching my foot up the shoe, I wiggled my toes to find the toe post so I could slide my foot back into position. For some reason, I was failing miserably at the simple task. Reaching down with my hand, what I was feeling didn’t make sense.
Until it did.
I had put the flip flops on the wrong feet because I couldn’t see them very well.
Sometimes, what you perceive to be your biggest impairment takes a back seat to a greater disability. Yes, my lack of sight caused me to make a misstep. But even if right is right and left is left, when wearing flip flops I am always getting off on the wrong foot.
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