Old cracks.
Soft leather.
Worn souls.
A snug fit.
Those old boots.

They are my go to shoe. The gel in-soul, worn ragged from the many times I rested my feet inside them. They are those old boots, fitted perfectly and will never stretch or shrink no matter what they are put through. The boots that have seen the good and the bad, the wins and the losses, the falls and the landings. They are those old boots. The boots remind of the long hours atop my palomino mustang, Elladora. Those old boots have stuck with me through muddy murky water and dry, desert dirt. Boots like these will never be forgotten. The boots, that I can not seem to get rid of and which have found a special place in my closet, right in the front, easy to grab. The boots have many stains and each day they gain a few more. A dirt smudge here a muddy clump there. They are those old boots.

Many old boots have passed through my family’s home. My dad’s boots: broken many years before when he walked them through water. My mom’s boots: the first pair given to her by my dad after they were married. My grandpa’s boots: worn right into the ground from being resouled one to many times; when he wears them, his pinky toe sticks out the side. Many old boots have passed through my house and, I would not trade that for anything.

With old boots come memories. Memories are contained in old boots, they live and thrive in an environment like that. Old boots are warm and worn and easily; memories are mesmerized by them and decide to take root inside those old boots. Old boots become filled to the brim with years of memories that never want to be forgotten. My old boots contain the most precious memories of all: childhood and youth. The first time I rode solo on my horse. Being able to ride on trail rides with all of my family surrounding me. Hanging with my friends and chasing each other while riding on our great steeds as we liked to pretend we were cowboys and Indians. Of course, not all memories are happy. The death of my first horse. Losing in the one competition I thought I could win. Having to say goodbye to my dad.

The memories I cherish most are hidden inside those old boots. They are memories bursting to greet me with open arms as soon as my feet rest inside. Once I put those old boots back on, I am home.