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Barbara Huntington: Our Big Toes
I look down at my toe
disgusting thing, although
it joggles a pleasant memory
my husband, before his death
despite his Parkinson’s
shaking head
his delight, surrounded by giggling girls,
the deer-in-the-headlight
fear in his eyes
briefly replaced by what?
Lust, memories
perhaps of a youthful
paramour, remembered sighs?
When I could no longer trim
his thickened nails that taunted him
my friend said “don’t fool with it
take him where
they have tools for it”
Thus, after our trip to the
Apple store
where geniuses seemed to want
to help him more than their mostly
younger clientele
we walked back to the parking lot
where a manicure salon reached out
pulled me in and I pulled him
no other customers in the store
I never frequented places like those
rarely manicured fingers or toes
a mountains and garden gal,
I relished mud between my toes
and besides, my nose
rebelled at the chemical smells
that filled those places
A young woman asked me what I
would like, probably assumed Fred
would leave, busy himself at a
restaurant, store,
or maybe
the library
almost next door
But I pointed to his sandaled feet
size ten to match his 6-2 height
which wasn’t his size any more
stooped, twisted neck, face forced toward the floor
suddenly all the girls gathered round him
smiled, giggled again, and showed him
to a chair and Fred obeyed
and grinned at them
But among the smiles one face was cross
An old woman stared, perhaps the boss,
Gave me a glare, pointed at my feet so
I nodded, sure, as she hustled me
to a chair,
then pulled out her stool
and what looked like
a very dangerous tool
I soaked and watched the fun
young women flirting with Fred
He, happy as a clam
or maybe a knight, a lady’s man
pampered and bathed, perhaps he imagined
girlish hearts
being won
I closed my eyes, soothed by the soak until
I awoke with a gasp of pain
water turned red with the nip of her implement
I swear that old woman had an evil grin
but I apologized
did not want my predicament
to spoil his fun
assured them all
I was ok as she applied some herb
and Fred maintained his goofy smile
and mollified, I hid the pain
Then I waylaid a laughing attendant
whispered my plan and she
conveyed to the rest my bequest
and by the time we left
Fred was enchanted by the happy
face painted on his big toenail
No longer depressed, a happy male
That’s the day the fungus found
my big toe
but oh
I’d let that old woman repeat her crime if
I could see
Fred’s happy faces
one more time
~~~~
Barbara Huntington recently retired from the Directorship of the Preprofessional Health Advising Office at SDSU after 17 years. She often writes about her students who overcame tremendous odds to become wonderful healers.
Copyright 2025 Barbara Huntington
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26 comments on “Barbara Huntington: Our Big Toes”
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This entry was posted on April 12, 2025 by Vox Populi in Health and Nutrition, Humor and Satire, Poetry and tagged Barbara Huntington, elegy, marriage, Our Big Toes, Parkinson's, Parkinson's together, pedicure, toes.Shortlink
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This is a lovely narrative of the luminous moments in even our deepest grieving. I appreciate the interplay of the smiling toe face , Fred in his enchantment, and the gigglehood of girls. The scheming woman wielding her clippers keeps the story true to the bitter part of grief. I salute Barb for the spirit she brings to this poem. With the healing respite it can bestow to other grievers.
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I love this joyful, sad, humorous elegy. A light touch in an elegy is a rare gift.
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Such happy memories Barbara, it’s lovely to read your affectionate poetry here, it’s wonderful, sending you many hugs
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Oh my goodness. A beautiful testimonial, Barbara.
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Thank you Tracy
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Barbara, a stunning poem, a lovely moment, a timeless impact. The last stanza,
I’d let that old woman repeat her crime if
I could see
Fred’s happy faces
one more time,
is realized each time your poem lives in one of us, who just can’t stop loving it!
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Thanks, Louise. I love the poem as well.
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Thank you, Louise
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Such a love poem! It gripped me from start to finish.
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Thank you Rose Mary.
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This poem is, for me, one of the most tender expression of love for a spouse I have every read. One of those unexpected magical moments. Loved every line!
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Thanks, Rose Mary. I agree.
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Is it this app that isn’t letting me respond to folks after their comments?
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This narrative travels so supply between many emotional depths and moments and keeps us wanting to read more, more about this nostalgic recalling of a moment, frozen in time… I admire the speaker’s tender observations, her intense quietness watching her husband, delighted, surrounded by a flock of noisily joyful women. And the inner music (& pain) in the poem is so present!
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So well-said, Laure-Anne. Thank you.
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Beautiful! I too like the narrative aspect of the poem; a story that shows the unexpected moments of happiness and reward in caregiving. I have felt those too and cherish them.
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Well-said, Leo.
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Very sweet narrative, Barbara. (Carla)
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Thank you, Carla.
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There are some fond memories that surface much later ( perhaps when the exhaustion and grief fog clears a bit).
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Thank you, Leo
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What a perfectly lovely poem and tale! Such a brisk journey in its telling. I will carry a smile long into this most favorite day of the week.
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This poem’s sneaks up on me with its chattiness and buried rhymes until I’m left helpless with shared grief in the last stanzas.
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Thank you, Michael
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It seems so long ago and not!
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Thank you, Sean.
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