Molting Onion

By: Megan Cramer

After a week of beach walks and sea water and sand between her toes, her feet began to shed their skin. Huge, thick chunks of dead skin revealed themselves, begging to be tugged. She obliged their call and started to pick, pull, pluck. Peeling back the layers, she became an onion, removing the shriveled dry husk to get to the fragrant rich potent layers beneath. Or maybe she was a snake, dropping her outer skin in a long trail behind her. No matter the metaphor, her soles felt reborn and the rest of her longed to follow in their footsteps.

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