And just like that, a decade has passed. When I think about the year 2020 approaching, I think back to New Year’s Eve, 2000. My family decided to put together a time capsule, to be opened in exactly 20 years. In my 6 year old mind, this concept was incredible. I would be 26 when we opened up the time capsule. What would my life be like? Would I still be on the coast of Maine? Would I have gone to college, gotten married? 2020 bounced in my mind every New Year’s Eve since then.
Fifteen months living on a small army base in Vilseck, Germany, coming to a close. Unlike my usual habit of talking (or writing) with no end in sight, I don’t quite have the words today. So, this Wednesday, instead of posting a series of writing prompts, or a wordy life reflection with a heavy dose of nostalgia, I’m doing something different. Something for me.
Our first year of marriage sealed in these 7 boxes, full of the menial, yet meaningful items that make our days go by, showing us how little we actually need to be happy. In one day this organized chaos will be systematically removed and loaded onto a truck, then a boat, then a port, then our new home. Our house will echo in the emptiness, the end of this chapter.
Christmas morning rolls around. A big box, wrapped in gold paper and an oversized bow sits under the tree, an eager puppy waiting inside. This puppy is a blank slate, ready to be trained, immediately loving everyone around him, and would rarely have an accident in the house. He would understand the expectations without being trained over and over again. He would adjust into our family routine without a hiccup. If you’ve ever had a dog, you know what you just read isn’t reality, even a little bit.
In the past, I’ve written about leaving, about saying goodbye to what you once knew, about the fear of forgetting. Now we’re thrown in the boiling stew once again, our essence of life here about to be lifted and dropped in a new country, a new home.
1. Flying out of Maine, landing in Munich, then driving onto an American army base created an eerie sense of culture shock. The base is a tiny piece of America in the middle of Germany, with fast food restaurants like Popeye’s, Subway, Dunkin Donuts, Southern accents, and the National Anthem playing before every movie on post. American flags.
Rovinj is an eclectic mix of colorful shutters, winding, white stone pathways, laundry hanging from multiple stories of windows, and a summer breeze. It’s almost more Mamma Mia than the film itself. Like with any location we’ve traveled to, there were many lessons we learned during our four days in the idyllic (former) island city of Rovinj.
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I realize that the majority of the population doesn’t know what it’s like to live on a military base, especially … More