But I will never forget Jerusalem.
I won't forget the Western Wall, where I stood a head or so above every other woman there (on the women's side, which I didn't get a picture of), laid my hand on the stones, and cried.
Tears for the rolled up pieces of paper with prayers written on them, stuck in the crevices of the stones on stones, tears for the women singing their prayers around me, tears for a city divided into sections with barbed wire between them.
I won't forget the Mount of Olives.
And I won't forget the dear, dear friends here.
It sounds like the border into Jordan will be pretty interesting to cross. Children tend to make things run more smoothly. Hopefully that will be the case tomorrow. Meanwhile, packing again.