There is a certain house in my neighborhood that I particularly love. Not because it is anything special, really, but because it is just so homey. Like so many Danish homes, the blinds are never closed. I like to look in and see what is happening, not in a Boo Radley kind of way, but just because. There is an orangey glow that seeps through the windows, a row of black and white family portraits on the wall, books in the shelves, and succulents growing in pots on the windowsill. Sometimes I wish I could walk through their front door and sit on their couch and have tea. This is no reflection on my own little apartment; I love being there as well. But there is something to be said about a house that has the entire family coming and going, a placed filled up with all the little things that family chose for their home. Things that speak volumes about who they are and where they come from.
I got a late start on my run this morning and happened to be out during the rush. I passed people biking and running, walking dogs and buying groceries. All those parents bundling their kids off to school and heading out to work. There is a peculiar sense of displacement when living in a foreign country, because you see everyone going about their routines and you know, they belong here. This is where they've made their lives. You, on the other hand, will only be here briefly. It is strange to suddenly be without those normal things - you know, the things packed up in your storage unit, the routines that were so different because they took place in another country, or the people you know best, so far away.
It is strange to come home and find Isaac waiting at the door, saying, "I Isaac. I go home now."
Somehow, it is still easy to forget that we are living in Europe. We are living in Europe. Sometimes we stop and look at each other and say this, as if it just dawned on us despite the fact that we have been here several months now. We say it in this "hey did you know" kind of way, like we are trying to convince ourselves it's true.
I got a late start on my run this morning and happened to be out during the rush. I passed people biking and running, walking dogs and buying groceries. All those parents bundling their kids off to school and heading out to work. There is a peculiar sense of displacement when living in a foreign country, because you see everyone going about their routines and you know, they belong here. This is where they've made their lives. You, on the other hand, will only be here briefly. It is strange to suddenly be without those normal things - you know, the things packed up in your storage unit, the routines that were so different because they took place in another country, or the people you know best, so far away.
It is strange to come home and find Isaac waiting at the door, saying, "I Isaac. I go home now."
Somehow, it is still easy to forget that we are living in Europe. We are living in Europe. Sometimes we stop and look at each other and say this, as if it just dawned on us despite the fact that we have been here several months now. We say it in this "hey did you know" kind of way, like we are trying to convince ourselves it's true.
As Peter Pan would say, it is an awfully big adventure.
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Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
- Mary Wilder -
Your posts are always so good! I liked your last one a lot but couldn't think of what to comment.
ReplyDeleteI want to have tea there too. Now that you've posted this, I think those poor people are going to have a whole bunch of American's randomley showing up asking for some Earl Grey and a nice conversation. That's the only tea really worth having by the way, cause it's the closest "tea" gets to "coffee". I'm glad you'll be coming over here in Spring :)
I'm totally a window-watcher too! haha love it. And Rob and I do the whole 'saying it out loud to each other' thing...like "holy sh*t, we just moved across the country!" or "holy sh*t, we have a new car!" neither of which are as exciting as Europe, but you get the point :)
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