I’ll tell you a secret: I know how
to walk. It goes heel toe, heel toe, and I learned
it in my first grade physical education class. That
was the same year I was picked to be on the jump
rope team for god knows what reason. I was on the
blue team, and we were the ones that traveled and
performed. So I know how to jump too, but I know
how to walk better. It starts with the bending
of the ankle and then the knee and lifting your
leg up as high as you want it to go — high for the days
I am happy and low for the days I am tired or sad —
and you put it down and start again with the other one.
The heel hits first. I know this. I learned it. But still,
sometimes my heel hits too fast or too late and I
lurch forward and stumble and look around coyly
to see if anybody else has seen what I know
just happened. Or sometimes the floor will
slide out from under me and I will stumble again, but
I know how to jump and it is a good thing. I
try to walk as best I can. I see walking all the time
because there it is in movies, in books, in real life,
and sitting too, but you cannot sit and move unless
you have wheels. So I walk, but sometimes it is
still just a little bit confusing and I feel like I have
fins on my feet and like I should be swimming
instead, but I keep walking because it’s what
I’m supposed to do, I guess.