Tired and worn old floors may not appeal to everybody, but they certainly do to me. Unnoticed by those who walk across them they offer a sense of stability and comfort under my feet. They are old, yet sturdy and enduring.
Gently worn by the many shoes and boots, maybe some barefeet, too, that have crossed across them they’ve stood the test of time. They were there as good times passed above them and as troubled times swirled above; light hearted steps and steps slowed by worry have left their silent imprints.
Most have a squeak or a creak in a certain spot that no amount of leveling under the floor will correct. When I find a creak in a wooden floor I usually try to arrange my steps to cross it several times and feel its motion under my feet – my grandparents house had such a spot in the wooden flooring hidden under the linoleum floor rug, how I would love to hear it again.
Gentle reminders of time gone by, of days long ago, yet, the footsteps continue.