Deutschland and a History

This time next week,

we will be in Germany visiting my dad.

My mom will be there too.

I've not sat on European soil with my parents since Christmas 1999.

 There have been other occasions that have given me reason to explore the historical land.

My grandma Deanie and I roamed Stockholm together in 2003.

She came to visit me at the tail end of my year sabbatical at Stockholm University.

We bought Adalynn a Pippi Longstocking doll and story book,

visited the The Nordic Museum,

Stockholm City Hall,

drank hot chocolate at sidewalk cafes along the Baltic waters.

By night we watched Swedes mingle along the bright streets
late into the evening,

until the Nordic summer sun would finally slip away,

while we sipped vodka spiked tonic,

and puffed cigarettes out the hotel window.

She told me stories about my paternal great-grandmother,

about her first marriage,

about my father's boyhood.

Some of the best days of my life
and I shared with my grandmother. 

That year I lived in Sweden, I ventured high and low,

East and West,

spent all my previous summer's savings on traveling anywhere I could.

You name it, if I had not been, I went.

It was planes and trains for me.

Some of the best days of my life.

The last time I was abroad,

I was with my husband, Paris, 2005.

I begged and begged him to take me to Paris for our honeymoon.

I longed to go back - back with him.

He wanted to go to Hawaii.

He took me to Paris.

See how wonderful he is?

Some of the best days of my life.

Of course, my love for Europe was was not always the case. When I first happened upon the continent, I did not understand it, I did not get it, I did not want to be there. Admittedly, I was young and naive. It happened the summer after my ninth grade year. It was my first time ever abroad. My parents excitedly and proudly moved us to the Czech Republic. We traded the little town of Ponca City, Oklahoma for what was - in my eyes - Mars. The Czech Republic? How dare they! How would I ever survive? How could I leave the love of my life? Ah! you say, there in lies the rub! I had a boyfriend that I was devastated to leave. (Yes, I thought this guy rocked. I thought we would live happily ever after and set sail across a rainbow drenched sky. Did I mention my naivety?)

I distinctly remember landing at the Prague airport
after our extremely long layover in Amsterdam.

It was hot.

Crowded.

I remember the smells,

I remember hearing our dog bark in her crate,

our cat meow in protest to being locked up in a cage for so long,

the border guard inspecting our papers,

my dad tired and anxious,

my mother nervous.

I remember my brothers and I looking around,
taking it all in for the first time.

Our new life.

I was acting the part of a brat without a drop of appreciation. I cried and cried. The crying did not stop for an entire year. Yes, I belly ached about having to live in Europe for nearly an entire year of my life. I moaned and groaned over our weekend trips to Austria, over the border to German Christmas markets, pouted on the holiday skiing expedition to the Italian Alps. I know, I know, poor me. (My poor parents, actually. I'm so sorry, mom and dad).

I finally figured it out - figured out that I was better off and in a good place - that I was fortunate, that my parents had bestowed upon me the most awesome gift of all time: the gift of travel, the gift of the world. I lived in Prague for three years, graduating from the International School of Prague with a stellar group of thirty-two classmates and the teachings of wonderful educators under my belt.

The gang on a Habitat for Humanity trip, Gilwice, Poland, Spring 1999.

Can you find me?

 Some of the best days of my life.

And now, years past, my how I love my mid-western tale as it is - with my husband, baby and little dog. I would not trade it for anything in the world. A tiny part of me though will always miss living along side my friend, Europe; she stole my heart. No, she did not have me at hello, but I came around, I grew to understand her ways. It was her streets that raised me, taught me about the world, opened my heart and mind.

So please

bring on the

tram-hopping,

hot wine sipping,

German-Christmas-market-paroozing,

Amsterdam-bound-train-catching,

scarf-wearing,

cobble-stone-street-walking,

lovely sites of Europe.

I hope Lucia someday sees and travels wherever her heart desires.

They will be some of the best days of her life.

Saturday will mark her first trip over the Atlantic and it will land her in Wilemshaven, Germany.

She will see the North Sea from her papa's apartment.

She will remember this trip in later years only through the eyes of her parents and grandparents,

through our memories,

stories and photographs.
These will be some of the best days of my life.