My boots tell a lot about me, I guess. Around once a year, I have to have my Posts resoled 'cause I wear 'em clean out; and the toes of my Ariats get scuffed every day... hence the oiled leather so I can get 'em looking good again. They're more comfortable today than they were a year ago, and in ten or fifteen years, I'll have 'em just right... and no, don't even think I'll consider throwing them away for a new pair!
Of course, there'll be new pairs of boots along the trail, but the memories and dances that the old square toes of my Posts will hold by then will be too many to let me get rid of 'em. Eventually, they won't look good enough to wear when I'm preachin'; and one Friday night I'll reluctantly retire them from date night. They'll sit in my closet and wait for the days when I can sit in the back yard, smoke a cigar that brings back too many memories, kick up my feet in a chair and let the leather tell me the stories we've lived together. Every line and crease tellin' about a trail we road, a saddle we sat, a dance where I held my girl tight for a waltz in Fredericksburg and kicked a little saw-dust around the floor doing the jitter-bug. We'll talk out a pipe about the shores of the Mississippi down in the Frenchman's part of town, and they'll help me to remember the long, sweet fingers of my bride laced into mine like the stitching of good tack.
Many cities have seen the soles, and they could tell you stories you'll never get to hear... but I'll listen on mornin's like these; in times when JeeP's big enough to wear 'em for himself, and I finally give 'em to him, I'll just see him wearin' them like a pants leg when he's two, and remember Jordan bringing them to me in mornings already fading way too quickly.
Yes, I love my boots... as good on the trail as they are on the dance floor! Made in Texas... right to wear even if you have to go to New York City! I'll take my Posts into a cajun shoe-maker today, and they'll be good for another year!
May the trail be easy enough to ride and tough enough to enjoy!