The Existence of Mud

There I was crouched down by the back door attacking my runners with an old toothbrush and thinking about how life has changed.

Long ago days of running barefoot with a hat hanging down my back pretending to be Laura from Little House of the Prairie.  Of knees with scabs on scabs and dot the dot bruises and dusty brown ankles.  When trees were for climbing and naming, not admiring and instagramming.
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