Tossing newspapers into front yards for months finally had its reward. He loved those shoes, the old-fashioned hiking boots with bright red laces. They were almost too pretty to wear when they first arrived. He waterproofed them and cared for them like nothing else. He’d sit in the classroom daydreaming of the next hike to plan. He’d circled all the waterfalls on the map. He’d bust out of bed at sunrise on a Saturday. While his siblings watched cartoons around the television, he’d pull his schoolbooks out of his pack, and fill it with a lunch, a water bottle and his leather diary. His grandfather’s compass dangling from his front pocket, and a topographical map crammed in the back pocket, he’d trundle out the road from the house and disappear into the woods like a ghost.