These boots...

These boots are a worn out, tatty pair of walking boots. Yet here I am, dedicating a whole blog post to them.

They're on their last legs, these boots. They don't have another winter in them. They're worn out in patches, and the souls are cracked and water and mud seeps into them and fills them. But these boots are so much more than just boots to me. These boots and I, we've had some adventures.

These boots filled me with such excitement when I first put them on my feet. I was twenty years old and leaving to see the world and when I put them on I imagined all the adventures I would have. I'll always be so grateful that my actual experiences were so far beyond what I ever even imagined.

These boots counselled me. After I lost my Dad, I would put them on and go for walks with my husband. I would talk about my Dad and laugh and cry and walk.

I wore these boots on walks with my Dad.

These boots kept my feet warm in the snow and ice at the top of a glacier in New Zealand.

These boots have been on my feet for every walk I have ever had with all the dogs I have owned in my life.

These boots were on my feet when I arrived at the fanciest hotel I've ever been to. These boots, well worn by then already, and feeling out of place amidst the designer luggage but I wasn't embarassed. I wore them with pride.

These boots ran me away from the giant huntsman spider that was on the ceiling, directly 30cm above my head, in the Australian outback.

These boots have racked up hours, and miles and stories that no other pair of footwear that I will ever own, for the rest of my life, will ever come close to.

These boots are more than just boots to me. They are my memories of my life, of my highest highs and my lowest lows over the past eight years. And maybe I am being silly; they are just boots. But I'm really going to miss them.

Bye, boots. xo