Old Boots

I've worn these boots for years.

They've taken me over the Pyrenees mountains in Spain, among the Canadian Rockies, and deep into the Wallowas. Together we've traveled hundreds of miles, crossing rivers, slogging through mud, padding over pine needles, picking through boulders.

Just the other day I put on my boots and it was as if I'd never seen them before. I noticed how the toes are assymetrical, the rubber curving inward.

We can become so familiar with what's right before our eyes, we don't see the details. It takes a hiatus, a pause, time away. Not working harder, but working "apart." So it is with the revision process. You can't see what's there until you take those old boots off and let them rest awhile.

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