These boots

Perhaps I’m sentimental this week because it is Memorial Day.

Maybe I have been watching too much news.

Regardless of the reason, my gratitude to our men and women serving in the military is immense. My cousin’s husband returned this week from Afghanistan. We have all said prayers for his safe return, and once again we have been blessed with another safe arrival. I’ve mentioned my husband’s good friends that are currently deployed, he worries for them and prays for them as if they were his very own sons.

I took photos of my husband’s boots in a fun, flirty way. I think him coming home in his uniform is so dreamy, his big ol’ dusty boots stomping around the house. But when I started editing the photos, something much more serious took over…

I realized that these boots have taken my husband across the globe, and then back home to me. They were attached to him, as if they were part of his body. So close to him that he would forget he had them on and fall asleep fully clothed. These boots were able to touch my husband at a time that I could only hear his voice during an occassional phone call through scratchy, echoing phone lines. Times that I would kiss the envelopes of each letter that I sent him in hopes that he could feel the love I put into each one as he opened them.

These boots were strong enough to carry his weight, and the weight of his packs across countless miles. They stood in the airport in Atlanta as we hugged for hours waiting for his flight to take him away from me. And they marched across the tarmac as his unit returned home in the middle of the night.

And these are the boots that come home each night, with their owner asking, “What’s for dinner, I’m starved!?!” as he plays with the dogs who are far more excited to see him than they ever are to see me. (Not that I’m bitter).

These boots have been scrubbed, washed in the washing machine (it actually worked), and bleached in the sun to get them presentable. 

I love seeing those boots laid out on our fireplace each evening. It means he’s home and he’s safe, and that I don’t have to take out the garbage…


This entry was published on May 27, 2010 at 9:23 am and is filed under Squawkings. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

4 thoughts on “These boots

  1. Pat Luther on said:

    This made me cry. You have always been a special person to me and I have always known thaat you are beautiful, witty and smart and now I see all this special talent coming out of you. Keep up the good work. Love ya1

  2. MommytoThree on said:

    I can so sympathize with this one. I love to see my husband’s boots by the back door every night because it means the same thing to me – that he is home and safe…. and yes, that I don’t have to take out the garbage!! He has been out for three years now, but he still wears those boots everyday to work – he says they are part of his “duty” and I think a part of him. I am sure we will always have a pair by the door as a constant reminder of what we have been through and what it means to our family that he is here now, but would go back in a minute to defend us or this country. (I will have to try the washing machine, though!)

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