So I may be headed home in barely a
week, but part of me will be staying here a bit longer. I'm donating
my hiking boots to one of the gals I work with at Primeros Pasos.
These sturdy feet protectors have been with me for six years now, and
they've finally come to the end of their waterproof life. Already
well past their recommended retiring date, they've developed a couple
of legit holes on this trip and I'd already planned on replacing them
when I got back. I figured passing them on to someone who can still
get some use out of them was the right thing to do.
These boots saw me through two seasons
of outdoor school and one season of summer camp. They still bear the
marks of the first coats of paint on the Tween Creeks cabin ceilings,
as well as paint from my first apartment in Boston. We've hiked parts
of the Appalachian trail together, kicked up dust in Memphis,
splashed through puddles in Niagara, and walked in the shade of
redwoods. They were the butt of many a joke for their first three
months of existence as I went to the store to get shoes...and came
back with a date. Of recent note, they've been doubling as soccer
shoes, which is also a bit of a joke, although they do the job as
best they can.
I don't want to fathom how many layers
of donkey poo, pond muck, and goose poop have graced their soles, and
I can barely imagine how many miles of earth they have covered. I
have been glad to count them in my shoe selection. They haven't
always made me the most fashionable, but they have always made me the
most comfortable and usually very well prepared for adventures. I am
sad to see them go, but I hope they enjoy their new life walking the
streets of Xela and the dirt roads of El Valle. If hiking boots ever
deserved a retirement community certainly a land of volcanoes and
mountains begging to be climbed would be it.
"Those boots were made for walking...." :-)))
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