The Simple Life

I took a walk tonight. Normally, when I have time to get out of the house and away from my work, I meander through town, window-shop a little bit to see what the store owners are displaying this week, and do some people-watching. Once in a blue moon, I stop at Palatini's Eis Cafe for a single dip ice cream in a small crisp waffle cone. When I treat myself to Palatini's, I pick the creamiest caramel you can imagine or a flavor called Boccia, which tastes of creamy chocolate and toasted hazelnuts. I'm easily overwhelmed when it comes to choosing what flavor I want and Palatini's offers so many flavors I could come back every night for a month and try something new. But I try to steer clear of Palatini's as much as possible because I know I would find myself standing in front of the ice cream case far too often, if I'm not careful.

Tonight, since the idea of wandering through town is boring, I decided to walk in the other direction-- toward the farms. I have been enamored with farms all my life. The field of mustard plants is still growing but the five foot high plants are now only green and the bright, yellow, honey-scented flowers have died back. It appears the farmer who grows the mustard planted additional crops several weeks ago and now rows of cabbage, kohlrabi, red lettuce and green lettuce have joined the mustard.

The three beautiful horses I often see an older farm hand walking in the evenings are being brought into their stalls for the night. In order to catch the older gentleman taking the horses for an evening walk, I must be out near the farms around 6:30 in the evening. There's something beautiful about watcing this average-sized man, with the short, graying hair and weathered skin calmly walking along with these three beautiful creatures. The horses are large draft horses and could easily drag the man across every field in sight, but they don't. He holds their bridles, the four of them walk slowly together, in no hurry to do anything more than enjoy their walk, while I hang back to prolong the view.

As I turn left at the curve in the gravel road, I hear young boys playing soccer in the field to the right and, to my left, I see the steeples of the old church off in the distance. More farm fields cover the land to my right. The brown sugar-colored soil is loose and dry from the lack of rain we've had these past few weeks and I see green beet leaves sprouting out of the tops of the beets. Tiny red veins in the leaves tell me these are beets, even though the blood red beets haven't started poking their way through the soil. I am not a lover of beets, but I know others in the area will be happy when these can be purchased, freshly picked, from the market in town.

The old white church sits at the far lefthand corner. It's my signal that I've arrived at the gravel path, lined on both sides with poplar trees that reach toward the evening sky. "Siebenschmerzenweg" says the street sign. Translated, the sign is telling me that the tree-lined gravel path is referred to as "Seven Sorrows Way". If I'd never been down this path before, I might be hesitant to walk a path in the middle of nowhere named Seven Sorrows Way. It's the first time I notice the sign, but not my first time down the path and I instantly know why it's called Seven Sorrows Way. Along the path are seven religious statues made of stone, bronze....beautifully sculpted, carved, and built. Each statue depicts a different religious scene involving Christ and his sufferings. I'm not a religious person, but I admire the beauty, the craft, and workmanship.

Wheat grows on the right side of the path, still green and young, waving in the wind. Now I know I have a beautiful golden wheat field to look forward to in the Fall. Along the left side of the path, the mustard flowers die back but have been joined by wild thistle. The spiky, thorn-covered purple flowers protect themselves from animals, but the birds hop through the field without a care, picking up seeds for their evening meal.

I'd always dreamed of living on a farm. And, while I don't live on a farm now, I'm lucky to have them right around the corner. Choosing to head in the opposite direction tonight was a good decision. Sometimes in the midst of inner-chaos, we find peace in the simplicity that surrounds us.

Change Catches Up With Me

Time flies and sometimes change occurs right under our nose, without us even realizing it. I'll admit my unadulterated love for my new surroundings was as blinding to my eyes as a school girl's crush. I ooh-ed and aahh-ed over every new event, place, and word the way a googly-eyed teenager swoons over the poster of the object of her latest crush.

My first six months of living in Germany were full of adjusting to my new life, a new home, new love, new language...new everything. All of it was met with enthusiasm, optimism and gusto and why not? I had worked hard to make dreams come true and they did. The love I'd waited for all my life found me and, together, we closed a gap that spanned 5000 miles and thirty years to make that dream come true for us. Along with it, I got to explore new places, live overseas, experience new things....all lifelong dreams of mine.

And then somehow, without me even realizing it, the Winds of Change started to slowly drift toward me until one day they finally caught up.

They say that people who move to other countries go through five different stages of transition:

• 1. Honeymoon Stage
• 2. Culture Shock Stage
• 3. Initial Adjustment Stage
• 4. Mental Isolation Stage
• 5. Acceptance and Integration Stage

Different people move from one stage to the next at their own pace and it's likely that most will fall back into previous stages at one time or another, before moving forward again. Without understanding or realizing what was going on, in early February, I slowly started to move into Stage Four, the Mental Isolation stage. Athough I may not have been able to identify it then, looking back, writer and expatriate Daniela Montebaur's description of Stage Four fits perfectly:

4. Mental Isolation: The initial adjustment stage is followed by another wave of integration ups and downs.


"During this stage Hart really needed support and help from her friends and co-workers. She felt anger toward the host culture and doubt about her decision to live in Europe. “Maybe the people back home are forgetting about me,” said Hart.


She complained about the fact that everything is “verboten” (forbidden) in Germany and that the food was different. People were staring at her in a way she was not used to. “I sometimes felt as if I had an imaginary American flag on my forehead. People just knew even before I spoke. “I got the ‘you’re different’ type of look,” said Hart. She lost motivation to continue learning German, and you could tell a difference in her personality. The sparkles in her eyes were dimming but her mind was expanding as she transitioned."

Although I never questioned my decision to move to Germany or my relationship with my sweetheart, it was painfully clear that the roles I'd held all my adult life were changing and I had no clue how to deal with that or what I was supposed to do next. And, like many others who have chosen to live in countries other than their homeland, I felt "out of sight, out of mind"...as if friends and family back home had forgotten all about me and no longer had the time.

My entire adult life had been spent raising my three children and, in the blink of an eye, they were all grown up. Living so closely to them the past few years I'd never had to fully make that realization because I saw my children regularly. Then, in January, I went home for a visit that coincided with my daughter's wedding and I realized "she's no longer my daughter first; now she's her husband's wife". The same realization came about as my older daughter talked of moving in with her partner. And my son...well, for those of you who whose son hasn't grown up yet, it is true what they say: a son grows up and leaves his mother.

Despite the fact that I had been the one to leave to come live here in Germany, it was with bewilderment and disbelief that I came to realize that the role I'd cherished so much in life had left me. I was no longer a mom raising her kids, which was my defining role for over 25 years. Yes, I know...I will always be their mother and we remain close, but you know what I mean. My kids no longer needed me. Because of the no-pets rule where I now live, no furry kids needed me either. All my life, I'd been needed. And suddenly, I wasn't.

At first, I tried to combat this by making a difference elsewhere. I dove into my writing and a few other projects in which I felt I could "make a difference". But regardless of the distraction and temporary satisfaction, a dark cloud starting forming over my head and then again, without me knowing what was going on, it engulfed me completely.

Days went by where I felt discouraged, forgotten and depressed. I felt that no one needed me, that I didn't make a difference and the world would barely notice if I was gone tomorrow. Thank goodness for the patience and love of the wonderful man who stood by my side even on the occasions I morphed into Brunhilda, the Bipolar Witch. Who, I'm afraid, is prone to fits of crankiness, child-like temper tantrums and sobbing hysteria.

In an effort to sort things out and figure out who and what I was in this new stage of life, I realized I had to at least have a foundation from which to rebuild myself. It became important for me to figure out what the new "truths" were that defined my life and, after much thought, I came to realize a few things:

1. My children will always be my children and we'll always be close but they are developing and enjoying their own lives as grown-ups because I did my job and raised them to do so. And I have to learn to let my baby birds spread their wings and fly just like they allowed their mama to do ten months ago.
2. I love my sweetheart and I want to be with him. (He also loves and wants to be with me.)
3. I love living here and want to stay in Germany.

These things I know for sure. I haven't figured out the rest and I realize this will take time. I still can't say for sure that I know what my new roles are in life. I am figuring out who I am, but as for "what" I am...I'm still trying to define that. The dark cloud that hung heavily over me has lifted and, though I can see it looming in the distance and know there will be days when it returns, I also know I have begun to step away from the doom and gloom it rained down on me these past few months.

Life is everchanging. Sometimes we plan the changes. Other times, the changes make plans for us. In one sense I embraced change and in another I was completely blindsided by it. I am thankful for my children and the definition they brought to the first part of my adult life. I am also thankful they allowed me the chance to define who I am, outside of mom, even though I didn't realize that would be part of the deal. And I'm thankful to this wonderful guy who loves and accepts me with the patience and support that only true love can so unselfishly offer. When I am crying and sobbing "I'm trying my best" he responds with "Don't try so hard; just be yourself".

And, with that, my adventure in Germany has also become an adventure in which the thing I am trying to learn about, adjust to and figure out is me and what, exactly, it means to be myself.