Although I’ve been blogging the trip itself, I haven’t said much about reentering the States other than I am already missing my newfound friends in Africa.
I remember pieces and moments of our trip each day, and am continuing to process it all little by little. This afternoon, as I finally got around to unpacking my Kenya bag, I was hit with a major whiff of memories, literally. All were induced by scents that still remain in items packed in that duffel.
God has given me the ability to slowly, softly take in much of my time in Africa. But today, the smells of my week overseas nearly brought me to tears, while a pit instantly took residence in my stomach. It hasn’t been there since standing outside the airport, viewing the rapturous Nairobi sunset one last time.
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The verbosity from 
beginning to present.
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peek

It just does. 
Instead of going out this February 14th in expected fashion, we decided against braving our fair city and its attendant hour-long waits, dressing up, and formality. My husband and I instead went to breakfast together at 7 a.m. We woke up, showered, and packed our bags for the day ahead. The Valentine parcels were placed in the car. For him: a silver box tied simply with a vintage white ribbon, speckled with tiny colored hearts. Inside was a new button-down shirt and hand-made bow-tie.

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