I was very close to my grandfather and I got together with a young man who was
very close to his grandfather a few years ago. We got talking about things we
remembered and we kind of drew a composite, I guess, partly of his
grandfather and partly of mine. The whole story wove around a pair of very special
boots.
The first time that I saw them, he was wearing them to church.
They weren't all scuffed and scratchy, like the ones he wore to work.
He was just a common man. He didn't even own a suit.
But you could see the pride reflecting in the shine of Papo's Sunday boots.
Every time he wore them, I couldn't help but stare.
I guess one day he noticed, cause he sat down in his chair.
He slipped them off and said, son, why don't you try them on?
They might not fit you now, but they'll be yours someday when I'm gone.
Even after all this time, I still can't fill his shoes.
But I wouldn't take a million dollars for Papo's Sunday boots.
It wasn't till our wedding day that I took them from the box.
Still, they didn't fit me, so I wore two pairs of socks.
I set them in the closet. I didn't wear them for a while.
Till I put them on the day that we brought home our first newborn little child.
And now I've made a special list of things I want to do before I'm gone.
I want to wear them out on the Opry stage and sing his favorite song.
I want to walk our daughter down the aisle, and then my last request.
Make sure I'm wearing Papo's Sunday boots the day I'm laid to rest.
Even after all this time, I still can't fill his shoes.
But I wouldn't take a million dollars for Papo's Sunday boots.
And just think, the next time that I see him, I'll be wearing Papo's Sunday boots.
Good stuff.