A Barefoot Life is a loving presentation of my experiences of sixty-five years. Growing up in beautiful Kentucky meant that I could shed my shoes in May and seldom don them again until September. Yes, I stepped on stones, splinters, bugs, and nails. However, I raced through cool, soft dust on a shady lane; I waded through squishy, muddy puddles provided for me by a sudden summer shower. I watched as wandering wooly worms tiptoed across my foot. I dangled bare feet in Green River and giggled as tiny fish gently nipped and scurried about. Therefore, life handed me the good and the bad. Writing helps me to be happy and peaceful in my heart. Memories, such as a policeman rocking me to sleep because my parents were bearing the unbelievable grief of losing three sons in one day, chip away at that peace and happiness. But, a higher power always soothes my wounds.