Socks

My almost-warm toes

Some days I forget about socks. No, I don't mean that I forget to wear socks, although that's the result of me forgetting about socks. I just forget that the uncomfortable feeling in my feet is them turning to blocks of ice. And I forget that socks exist for the purpose of warming said blocks of ice. I forget about the existence of wearing socks as an everyday sort of thing (unless for some strange reason I'm putting on tennis shoes).

Yet I'm willing to bet that a lot of you also forget about socks. You forget their existence, even though you're wearing them day-in and day-out. Because socks are normal.

They're not normal for me.

But that's okay, because there are a lot of things that are normal for me which I haven't yet experienced in everyday America. Like hopping in a taxi with a bunch of random strangers. Or being stared at because of my skin color. Or having people start conversations with me just to practice their English. Or realizing that my data balance is running low so I should stop browsing Pinterest (have you stopped to consider just how much bandwidth you use in looking at Pinterest?)

My transition back is going okay. It's been over a month now since I left my island and tomorrow will be a month from when I arrived in North America. I'm having a hard time blogging about it because, well, for most of my readership it's just normal life.

Yesterday I went for a walk up a hill with my mom. We saw a salamander, a wild iris, a bunch of trees and ferns and wildflowers and moss and hills... and it's totally normal, but in a beautiful and refreshing sort of way.