So much happens under our feet while our eyes are looking up or out. Floors carry the footprints of all who have walked, rolled, crawled or sat there. Shadows paint their fleeting designs whether we notice them or not. We are grounded and supported by what is under our feet, or wheels in my case. I remember on a trip to Assisi in 1986 being so aware of the feet that had trod the paths I was taking. Perhaps it had been hundreds of years before, but the footprints remained. So today I pay homage to the lowly floor, our ever-dependable friend.