Clearing the Grit

I slipped back inside just as the evening quiet settled over the house. After spending the afternoon in the playground pit, my sandals had gathered a dusting of fine sand along the grooves. I stopped at the edge of the heavy coir doormat, planted my left foot firmly on the stiff bristles, and gave my right sole three slow, steady scrapes against the rough coconut fibers. A faint patter of grit dropped free onto the mat. I shifted my weight, stayed balanced, and cleared the other foot just as clean. Good habit, solid footing, and nothing tracked into the hall.