The day has finally arrived; after months of waiting for the details of our impending move to slowly unfold, our bags are packed, the majority of our stuff is on a ship crossing the ocean, and we’re leaving this place we’ve called home tomorrow morning.
For months I’ve been emotional about this move, staring at our village sunsets with tears in my eyes or lingering in the spaces of my house that hold memories. But this past week I have been pretty much void of emotion as I scrambled to get everything done.
Our last day here was our chance to have our Germany farewell. It’s the first chance I’ve had in a while to pause and really think about what I’ll miss about this place…
I’ll miss the beauty of the landscape, which is mostly untainted by strip malls and power lines. I’ll miss the Christmas season in all its nutmeggy, twinkly-lighted German glory. I’ll miss the countless travel opportunities, and constantly being immersed in new cultures and languages. I’ll miss the sense of history at every turn— the restaurant that is 700 years old, the farmhouse in our village that has survived two world wars. I’ll miss the green, crisp woods and the afternoon walks I’ve taken for granted. I’ll miss the festivals, the traditions, and yes, the brats and beer. I’ll miss our home in our cozy little village.
Most of all, I’ll miss the people I’ve come to know and love here. We have met friends who have become like family.
Life hasn’t all been a fairytale in Germany— there have been long stretches of the boredom and loneliness that come with living abroad, and there have been a few bumps in the road. But I look back on the newlyweds that first got off that plane in Frankfurt three and a half years ago and I see how much we’ve grown. This is where we were newlyweds, where we had our baby, where we made our first home…
And while I am excited for whatever’s going to come next, tonight I’m pausing to say goodbye to a place that I have grown to love.