Last week while packing for San Diego, I opened the top zipper of my large suitcase, and found a pair of flip flops. Nothing special. Brown, from Old Navy. I'm sure I got them for next to nothing. I thought about why they were there...I took them out and took a look. It wasn't until I turned them over that I realized they were the shoes I wore the whole time I was in Africa. I knew because of the dirt. The dust. I threw those flip flops in at the last minute. I bought a pair of shoes specifically for the trip (which I never wore, of course), and those were an "in case" pair.

They saw miles of Ugandan dirt paths and roads. Fields where we danced with children, held them, made them laugh. The hut where my life was changed. The bus where countless hours were spent talking and laughing and crying.

I don't know what to do with them. I can't throw them out. I can't wear them. If I wear them the dirt and dust will come off, and the reality that I'm not in Africa, but here, will be that much more real. So, I took them across the country in my suitcase. I brought them back. And they are still there, in the zipper of my big suitcase. Maybe someday I'll do SOMETHING with them, but for now, I want to preserve the memories they hold for just a little longer.