Sweaty Feet

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No, just sweaty feet.”

And then we clasped hands and I clenched my sweaty toes as we clicked “Purchase” on Aer Lingus.

I don’t think I’ll regret buying my one-way ticket to D.C. last night, but I am scared. And sweaty.

So many questions loom, a completely uncertain future. Where will I work? Where will I live? Will I be able to find Spanish ham there? What do D.C. and Maryland look like and feel like? I don’t know what to expect.

I’m scared to leave Spain after adjusting to a routine here — eating lunch at 2 p.m., doing nothing on Sundays, drinking tintos de verano at anytime of day without judgement. How will I behave in “my own” country when it seems like a foreign land itself?

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One thought on “Sweaty Feet

  1. Yvonne says:

    I knew those weren’t Vettie feet. On a serious note, though, it’ll be a tough transition. But you never shied away from new and scary before!

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