Slowly painfully however we have begun the process.
I still wear similar boots at times, but entirely different.
Now instead of protecting a republic they safeguard the things that my previous
boots required me to sacrifice.
Kept me away from and unknowing of.
These new boots don’t run on a moment’s notice to lands far and away.
Yet to a stranger place very much unknown to me.
A place called home. A place called civilian life.
A place where for the first time instead of leading others treasures into harm’s way.
They lead my treasures to the park or yard for a romp in the sandbox.
Always vigilant for a portion of the old boots remain.
Although the new boots need to be broken in. With time that will happen.
I will suffer pains while I adjust from my previous boots.
So now I move forward slightly limping but with a smile on my face. Goodbye my old
friends I must let you go.
For my new boots fit me fine.
Now I must help my children make their own boots from all I have learned from the
old and all I have to learn from the new.
submission for next issue of Mamalode
Topic letting go