Family Journey

Sooner or later every father looks down at the entryway and sees his own boots with a much smaller pair beside them, set down as if the owner meant to stay.

Work boots are the plain uniform of a lot of American jobs: laced leather, a collar that supports the ankle, a thick lugged sole made for mud and gravel and ladders. The large pair here has done that work. The leather is creased across the toe and scuffed at the sides, and the laces are tied and the tongues stand up.

The small pair is built to the same plan, with the same laces, the same sole, the same color of leather, in a size that will be outgrown in a season. It is a fair summary of how a family goes down the road: the big one first, then the small one a step behind, copying everything, including the stance.

The picture is quiet. The two pairs stand together on white, tan against a loose cloud of ochre and blue, and nothing else is in the frame.