As I step across the threshold between private and public,
the bare skin of my feet registers the harsh prickles of the welcome mat.
I step from the scratchy mat to the cool and soft stone floor of the hallway,
I pull my front door and let it softly click closed.
A flight of stairs down,
a few steps more and I’m outside,
carefully treading on the uneven stones of the entrance way.
And then the sidewalk.
I take light footsteps,
hopping over unwelcome items on the ground.
Pavement is surprisingly softer than a welcome mat,
giving my unprotected feet a welcomed gentle and sun-warmed massage.
The bag goes in the trash, I turn around,
and my feet experience the textures in reverse
until they again rest safely on the cool,
clean stone floor of my Jerusalem apartment.
These are a few of my favourite things.