When you move to a new place, everything around you is new, vibrant, dominating of all your mental energy. The bricks in Berlin are this for me. Every morning I walk out of my apartment building with my dog and this is what I see. You can't tell from this photo, but each square brick is about 4 inches deep. I love to think about who laid these bricks, who has walked on them, what stories have been told on them. Of course a path or a road is symbolic as well. What does this lead to, what will happen next? It is all part of our journey as we move through our days, very clearly newly settled Berliners.
When you are a foreigner, each moment of each day is full. Everything you see, taste, touch you never have before. This alone is enough. And yet you still have to get from point A to point B. You still have to eat and drink and bathe and sleep. Every little thing you do is a huge accomplishment. I have turned to my husband on more than one occasion with a high five. We nod at one another. We roll our eyes. We argue. We laugh. It is all happening. Every emotion. All at once. I haven't allowed myself to feel all that much yet. I'm a mother. I'm walking around waiting for one of my children to lose it. To start sobbing in the middle of the train station. To suddenly feel hunger times 100 at the most inconvenient of times. I am protecting our life's belongings, or cleaning our small apartment, or managing to sip a tiny glass of wine or three. But my real feelings, I am not yet there. I am appreciating the moments of truth and beauty and trying my hardest to be aware of our transition so I can tell the stories, create the stories, live the stories.
I'll babble here as I observe our new world.
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