ODE TO A GYPSYS' BOOTS

My intentions were to write something witty to commemorate the releasing of my ever faithful Doc Martins.

BUT

I'm tired this morning, the kind of tired that comes with realizing I spend too much time these days sitting in the local hospital comforting family and friends. Another one of those life experiences that no one tells you comes with getting older. Aging ... a whole other subject for a different day .... and yet, the reason for letting go of these tired ol' boots.

My black and oxblood boots of freedom have served me strong and true. Their urban sole was great for asphalt but they couldn't hold their ground in the damp earth of the dark woods. These boots have traveled the white sands of Florida, red dirt of Alabama, high waters and fireflies in Louisiana, swamps of Mississippi, protected me from cactus in Texas, walked through volcanic ash of Mt. St. Helens. These boots have lasted  through a broken relationship, loss of relatives and family pets. We've worked odd jobs from coast to coast, camped, fished, shopped, danced, walked off weight, ran from Bigfoot. We've hiked rocky basalt cliffs to sit in sacred places, balanced through slippery riverbeds in search of rocks and crystals, tread lightly  through the ancient redwoods and down to the rocky seas.

Today I bid farewell to my Doc's.