The boat shoes I’ve worn to work for 17 years

They’re not fancy—just a pair of navy leather deck shoes, the kind that creak when you walk on wet docks. I’ve had them since my first field season in the Pacific, and they’ve seen every tide cycle from Baja to the Aleutians. The soles are worn down unevenly, one heel higher than the other, like the ocean’s been whispering secrets into them. I don’t know why I keep them. Maybe it’s the way they smell after a week at sea—salt, diesel, old fish. Or maybe it’s just that they remind me I’m still here, still moving.