I took the train home to my parents’ on Tuesday. So I thought in between telling you about the places I’ve lived (here and here), let me also tell you something about the place where I grew up and where my parents and my brother live to this day. It’s a small town in Northern Germany – far from cities the size of Cologne. And- it’s magical here. I had to leave, of course, to realize that. But that’s the way it goes for everyone, isn’t it?
I went for a walk this afternoon through the fields behind my parents’ neighborhood. The winter sun stood low and red and warm, it smelled like fresh earth and dead leaves, my fingers were cold, it was empty and quiet, and I could just breathe and- be. Just: one step after another on half-frozen mud, rain boots on my feet, Ryan Bingham in my ears.
I’ve been going a little stir-crazy in Cologne these past few days and coming home is exactly what I needed. I have some sweet little things planned – baking, window-shopping, coffee with grandma – and right now that’s enough. It’s good.