We’ve kayaked down Section 9 of the French Broad and the Upper Green.
We’ve roamed the halls of Olympia High school and grazed the sandy banks of Lake Down.
We’ve hopped through the waters of the Wind River Range and navigated the tall grasses of Max Patch on the AT.
We’ve traversed southern France and the musty streets of Venice. We’ve shuffled through the tiled sorority houses during rush and stomped on bleachers in Sanford Stadium.
We’ve danced and hiked and studied and worshipped and laughed and learned and cried in these shoes. They have taken me everywhere. And now they are tired. Worn out from a decade of living large.
We’ve been together for ten years, and now you are broken and I am sad. My 15-year-old self could not have imagined all of our adventures and my 25-year-old self can’t believe it’s been that long.
RIP, my longest relationship and smelliest friends I’ve had. You’ve been good to me.