This is what home looks like.
Home looks like hurt and healing out in the open.
There was never time and air for my feet to heal in Jerusalem. I have blood blisters layered on blood blisters, but the greatest pain came from the, er, leaking between my toes.
There was just never any questions of what to do, besides pull on the same shoes for another's days walking and learning adventure.
New York City gave me silver-dollar water-balloon blisters on top of the blood blisters on top of the cracks and callouses. My father suspects it was the cycle of my feet swelling from lack of movement on the plane, then being subjected to heavy walking, then swelling again.
Whatever the explanation, the upshot was the after six weeks of walking the WORLD, I came home and couldn't put on shoes or creep off carpet!
Which means I left under a mutual cloud of fear over *this* guy not being able to take care of himself,
and came home to spend a week with my feet up and him spoiling me!
