I will say goodbye to my rubber boots,
Bought for $30 from Canadian Tire in 2022
Now spattered with specks of red, blue, yellow, green and white,
Slice in the bottom left toe,
Tread worn off.
My trusty companions for three years
Across countries, forests, mountains and valleys.
Data sheet folded in three, then half,
Carefully orchestrated to fit in a breast pocket,
Slipped into the Arc’teryx fanny pack from the 80s that was
my dad’s, then mothers, now mine that
Bear a decorative speckle of blue and white.
All clothes covered in paint,
Drips, spatters, and splotches from three consecutive summers of spraying lizards,
With non-toxic acrylic paint.
A green bloom on my left leg from Puerto Rico 2021 when the paint gun nozzle loosened,
Twin purple handprints on my back from week 2 in the Dominican Republic 2023
(I needed someplace to wipe my hands),
And a multi-coloured bonanza on my sleeves that marks each passing year.
But tonight, bringing myself back to the present,
I madly fan my face with my data sheet,
Beating moths away from getting caught behind my glasses,
Attempting to prevent the sweat rolling down my skin,
Glasses fogging anyway,
On the final night of field work.
And tomorrow,
I throw away my rubber boots,
Enter the final lines of data,
And board a plane to wing me home.
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