22.09.09

I’ve been listening to a song that a woman sings to her man about wearing holes in the soles of his boots. She sings about waiting at home for him to stop his wanderings, about the dirt he might trek in to her house, about needing his strong hands, about waiting for him to be still. The song makes me think of you. I ponder the sight of your boots under my bed. I think about needing your strong hands.

I do need your strong hands. But I also think about those holes in the soles of your shoes. And I wonder about the holes in the soles of my shoes. I don’t know which one of us would be waiting for the other to be still. I don’t know if I would be able to wait at home wondering about another’s stillness.