In the summertime my sister and I would wash Mom's car. This was always my favorite chore. The sun would retire at the end of the visible sky, but light would remain long enough to get the job done. Warm and wet asphalt is better than dry asphalt, and I liked pressing my feet into the soapy water. Sometimes I'd stick my whole foot in the bucket just because. Occasionally I'd run around the car, always being careful to lift my toes high enough off the ground to not trip over them. Our street was old and craggy and washing the trunk was usually challenging. I'd have to gently place my feet down, so as to not hurt the bottoms. But my absolute favorite part about washing the car was taking a trip around the neighborhood. Mom said this is how we give the car a final-and good -dry.
At night before I go to sleep, I like to rub my little feets together. This has always been my comfort and I'm convinced I do it in my sleep even. Maybe in my dreams I'm walking hand in hand with my dad, barefoot around the block. And there's the sun, retiring into the invisible sky. But it's at the end of the block that I can see Heaven's light.