I'm having a hard time getting back to reality. Since Thursday, I've been finding myself saying, "last week at this time..." That's sort of died off by now (Sunday), but I do find myself thinking of last weekend a lot.
I want to tell everyone I see. I want everyone to continue to ask me about it. I want people to wonder why I still tear up when I tell my favorite parts of the weekend.
I look at pictures a lot. I think of the feelings. I remember the pain, the joy. I play with the flappy skin on my rubbed-off blisters. I push on the hardened callouses on the balls of my feet. I think about what my pedicurist will think when I finally get to meet him or her.
It's still there. All of it is still with me. Sometimes I wonder how I can't do it again.
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