little things

This week was a tough one. My sweet granddaddy passed away early Thursday morning, and I would like nothing more than to be with my family right now. He was a quiet man who had grown even quieter in the last two years, but his most-often repeated phrase, said to us every time we packed up and left for Tennessee, "stay between the ditches," has been a quiet mantra in the back of my mind for as long as I can remember. A reminder to keep my eyes on the road and follow my path, even if I swerve a bit trying to stay there.

An unintentional theme this week - faces. Maybe because I'm missing all the ones of friends and family who are so dear to me, maybe because making good friends in a new city where you don't really know a soul is, as anticipated, tough shit. I've been lucky to meet several people - mostly friends of friends - who have been nothing but kind and helpful and fun, but I'm still feeling a little lonelier than I would like. Part of the reason I moved here was to get some space, but here's hoping I'll start a few friendships that feel a little more...effortless...soon. Cross your fingers?

In the meantime, five things that made my week a little sweeter:

I finally made it to Akazienkiez, one of the hipper districts in my neighborhood

springtime colors, wintertime temperatures

smiling cheese

mitte again...whoops

this little face, my favorite of all the faces

two things [part I]

When I was considering the decision to come to Berlin, two thoughts stayed in the forefront of my mind, so much so that it felt like they were rooted in the very center of my forehead, blocking my view. I knew that the only way to get things right again was to smack these thoughts out so I could walk straight and see clearly. First of these was an intense need to reestablish myself as myself. The second was that I needed to find an excuse to write. The moment the Berlin opportunity blurred into focus, I knew it was exactly what I needed to smack me back to life.

I spent the night before my twenty-fourth birthday seeing a band I like a lot but honestly may not remember ten years from now. That concert was my first here in Berlin – six weeks after I landed. The moment I saw that they were making a stop here, I bought a ticket and planned on going solo, partly because six weeks is a long, long, long time for a Nashville girl to go without seeing a show and partly because I thought it would be nice to spend time around people who knew all the lyrics to an album I knew all the lyrics to too. I don’t know if it was the music or the people I met or the fact that I get majorly sentimental every time I officially get a little older, but I walked out into the cold air later that night feeling totally righted. So much clearer. Centered. Even after the beer.

Every year on our birthdays, my mom makes a show out of my and my brother's “last night as an XX-year-old” or our “first meal as a XX-year-old” which always strikes me first as cheesy, and immediately after as sweet and thoughtful and so profoundly motherly it usually (surprise!) makes me cry. So, mama, if you’re listening, my first official act as a 24-year-old was writing this on the notes app on my phone on the train ride home that night. I think this is what they call progress.

highlights from today's walk with Opa & Oma

Today I took a walk with Baby T and her grandparents, Oma and Opa. These two have been together for over fifty years and are already an important part of my life here. We've already had some memorable conversations in somewhat strained English. Some highlights from the walk around the neighborhood:

• "You can't be expected to raise children without a TV."
• "What kind of alcohol do I like? Ha! All of it."
• "There are terrorists everywhere here."
• "Tomorrow, we have a drink."

People everywhere are the same.