On Monday we will sign the lease. To a granite farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Which turns out to be in Scotland.
Aaron starts his position at the University. We will have a baby. The girls will get picked up by a bus and wear uniforms to school. I will plant a garden and watch it grow.
That's the plan anyway.
In the meantime I, and we, will say goodbye to Germany as our home. To our beautiful apartment and the bakery in the square. To chocolate and cappuccinos on the daily. To cobblestone streets and castle gates. To Anna, her scuffed dining table, and the family that sits around it.
Goodbye to the kindergarten that we bring our kids to every morning. Who taught the girls to be more patient, less fussy, and a second language. Goodbye to first cuddles and stolen mittens and embarrassed tears.
Goodbye to German rail, the autobahn, and my Mercedes bus. Goodbye to my fellow bike riders on the Promenade. Goodbye to seemingly infinite travel.
Goodbye to the market and the food, food, food, food. To the fried egg on fried potato. To the beer that runs cheaper than water. With a mountain of foam that is a delicacy in its own right.
Goodbye to the family that helped to make my own. That lives by a river that once was Her home. To the memory of sweet smelling carrots.
Goodbye to the doctors. My appendix in the trash. To monthly ultrasounds so I could spy on our baby. To the osteopathy sessions that bordered on adultery. I will never forget you.
You can keep your language, your line busting population, your no nonsense approach. For those things, I will not miss.
Thank you for taking us out of our comfort zone and helping our family to grow. We're closer than we've ever been. And we'll need that for our next adventure.
Tschüss!
Aaron starts his position at the University. We will have a baby. The girls will get picked up by a bus and wear uniforms to school. I will plant a garden and watch it grow.
That's the plan anyway.
In the meantime I, and we, will say goodbye to Germany as our home. To our beautiful apartment and the bakery in the square. To chocolate and cappuccinos on the daily. To cobblestone streets and castle gates. To Anna, her scuffed dining table, and the family that sits around it.
Goodbye to the kindergarten that we bring our kids to every morning. Who taught the girls to be more patient, less fussy, and a second language. Goodbye to first cuddles and stolen mittens and embarrassed tears.
Goodbye to German rail, the autobahn, and my Mercedes bus. Goodbye to my fellow bike riders on the Promenade. Goodbye to seemingly infinite travel.
Goodbye to the market and the food, food, food, food. To the fried egg on fried potato. To the beer that runs cheaper than water. With a mountain of foam that is a delicacy in its own right.
Goodbye to the family that helped to make my own. That lives by a river that once was Her home. To the memory of sweet smelling carrots.
Goodbye to the doctors. My appendix in the trash. To monthly ultrasounds so I could spy on our baby. To the osteopathy sessions that bordered on adultery. I will never forget you.
You can keep your language, your line busting population, your no nonsense approach. For those things, I will not miss.
Thank you for taking us out of our comfort zone and helping our family to grow. We're closer than we've ever been. And we'll need that for our next adventure.
Tschüss!
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