After a rheumatology appointment, I pulled over to a stop somewhere in Mission Hills. It was unfamiliar, but I decided to attend a Musings and Movement event via Zoom. It was time, and I didn’t want to wait until I was at a convenient location; otherwise, I would not attend again. So, I was, parked along an unknown street between my doctor’s office and the freeway home. Slow down, push in the breaks, and stop. Stop. Take a deep breath.

Feet out of their shoes. This sense of freedom is unusual in the car.

I move my toes around as the boundaries of the shoes no longer restrain them.

Nobody sees my toes but me: the big toe and the four other ones.

“They are all different, and they all have personalities,” Gayle says.

Yes, they are all different. With Scleroderma, sometimes they swell like latex balloons about to pop. Sometimes just one or two of them. The stubborn ones. Occasionally they freeze and are cold like popsicles on a hot summer day. Sometimes they are white, purple, or blue. The color shades of my toes vary. I have five toes, like five children—teenagers, free-willed and undisciplined.