Feeling Free

• Rochelle Kirkham, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2011

On top of the dryer sits the piles and piles of odd socks. Looking lost and forgotten, unloved without a match. I have come to my last resort. The odd socks are my only choice as there are no remaining pairs. I pick the two, with shades of grey as close as possible varying only slightly in colour and shape. The socks slide over my feet and I reach for my runners. The runners that are worn, old in colour and smell like parmesan cheese. One of my well loved, well worn possessions. The defined shape and curves of my feet imprinted in the souls of the shoes, just as the shoes define and make an imprint in me.

I put on my worn, parmesan cheese smelling runners and run. I run and my feelings are free, my body is free and my mind is free. The start is rocky, but eventually my feet and arms are moving in sync. My breathing falling in to place between my movements. The world passes by in a blur. In front is a man with a cigarette in his hands. The thick smoke is blown back into my face and is inhaled through my nose. It disrupts my breathing and I cough. I move past the smoker and towards the entrance of the park.

Either the sun has moved from behind the clouds or I have just noticed how beautiful a day it is today. I look up to the sky, though it makes me dizzy while I am running. A bright, strong shade of blue covers the vast area, only a few spots of the white fluff surrounding the flaming ball of fire. The breeze ever so lightly rustles the branches of the trees and dares to tickle the hairs on my skin. The atmosphere in the park is peaceful, enjoyable. I stop and sit for a moment to take in the beautiful day but to also get my breath back. I do not realise the beaming smile pasted across my face until the man passing by smiles back.

I return from my run, feeling rejuvenated and energised. The imprint running makes on me is one of joy, and a feeling that I am free to be who and what I wish. When I now look down at my feet, the fact that the two socks are not a matching pair is not noticeable at all. The difference I once saw before is no longer visible. As a sock is a sock. It does not matter what colour or shape or length one is, each sock performs the same task: I guess, has the same genes and decent in one way or another. Likewise with humans. The rich, the poor, the mothers, the workers, we are all the same. Of the same decent, performing the same task in life. A human is a human. It does not matter what colour, shape or size one is, we are all equal. We all have hands, we all have eyes, we all have a brain. The difference I once saw in people is no longer visible. Humans are a race just like socks, we all have our differences though each one is exactly the same.