First day of summer. First day of wearing shorts. I sit on the deck, catching the rays, studying my legs for changes since last year. After all, I haven’t really looked at them for many months. Still long, thin and shorebird-like, but there are more stringy blue veins visible just below the surface. White dots, un-pigmented skin, salt my shins. Tawny freckles have appeared. Over the hour I sit in the sun, my legs resist an even tan. But, aesthetics, aside, this pair of legs still serves me well- no aches and pains to speak of in the knees, ankles or hips. They can still take me three miles several times a week. They climb steep steps and hike the hillside without complaint. They help me avoid elevators and noxious forms of transportation. I’m grateful for this worn but dependable pair of gams.
“In the morning a man walks with his whole body; in the evening, only with his legs.”–R.W. Emerson
“Darling, the legs aren’t so beautiful, I just know what to do with them.” –Marlena Dietrich
“More belongs to marriage than four legs in a bed.” Rainer Marie Rilke
“A conservative is a man with two perfectly good legs who, however, has never learned how to walk forward.” –FDR
“A girl’s legs are her best friends, but even the best of friends must part.” –Red Foxx
Break a leg!
Shake a leg.
The first leg of the journey.
He hasn’t got a leg to stand on.
Are you pulling my leg?
He slunk off with his tail between his legs.
Can talk the hind leg off a donkey.
The news story had legs.
It cost an arm and a leg.