Yes, I can. All over this house.
When I’m leaving home, I venture around with my white cane. If I’m at home, which I’m more than familiar with, the cane stays in the corner. I sense every creak in these old floorboards.
But transient objects, like sneakers or dog toys or cats, I do not always remember those. I’m bending it like Beckham here, launching things unintentionally across the room as I walk through. The pain shocks me at first, fading into giggles as I laugh at myself.
I couldn’t hack it on the soccer field as a sighted girl. Now I’m connecting left and right. You ever bruise the ends of your toes? Feels like a hidden talent.