old friends
I got am email from a friend with a paragraph I want to put in here for my own memories sake.
She wrote:
I have a cup of coffee, a pen (in the form of a keyboard, but one can’t be picky, can one?), and a whole host of memories flooding back into my head and heart, and toes! It is amazing what has happened to both of us since we left Germany . I remember sitting in the train, deciding what we could throw away on the way home, so we could actually lift suitcases! I remember our church service on the hillside, outside, in the dark. I remember Alexander Platz, walking with you and Thomas to the Bruecke Museum , the Cathedral outside of Berlin Zoologischer Garten, the little Italian restaurant we always ate at when I came to visit. Oh Bre! I know you have a thousand and seven new memories of Berlin , but that time was amazing, and we were the amazing, invincible teenage world-citizens who wrote everything down and had deep meaningful conversations about graffiti. And, I still don’t laugh at us. I look at us, and want to meet us. Not to tell us what will happen, but to laugh, and play along!
Who we were... it such a funny thing. That is from a friend who I lived in Germany with when I was 16... part of a group of three or four people who really changed my life and helped me to be someone I always wanted to be, but who I believed could only exist in my head. And now it is a very strange thing to find that I have grown away from that person. Not on purpose or for lack of interest, but sheerly by growing up. It is a funny thing to be reminded about the past and have it be so near--- but just slowly slip-sliding away. (this particular friend also first got me interested in Simon and Garfunkle!)
So I am sitting here, in the entry of the house, listening to The View, wishing for more time to sit around and paint, and drink coffee and discuss and wishing that I still wrote poetry--- but sort of knowing that even if I had the time I wouldn't. And that is what is weird about growing up!
She wrote:
I have a cup of coffee, a pen (in the form of a keyboard, but one can’t be picky, can one?), and a whole host of memories flooding back into my head and heart, and toes! It is amazing what has happened to both of us since we left Germany . I remember sitting in the train, deciding what we could throw away on the way home, so we could actually lift suitcases! I remember our church service on the hillside, outside, in the dark. I remember Alexander Platz, walking with you and Thomas to the Bruecke Museum , the Cathedral outside of Berlin Zoologischer Garten, the little Italian restaurant we always ate at when I came to visit. Oh Bre! I know you have a thousand and seven new memories of Berlin , but that time was amazing, and we were the amazing, invincible teenage world-citizens who wrote everything down and had deep meaningful conversations about graffiti. And, I still don’t laugh at us. I look at us, and want to meet us. Not to tell us what will happen, but to laugh, and play along!
Who we were... it such a funny thing. That is from a friend who I lived in Germany with when I was 16... part of a group of three or four people who really changed my life and helped me to be someone I always wanted to be, but who I believed could only exist in my head. And now it is a very strange thing to find that I have grown away from that person. Not on purpose or for lack of interest, but sheerly by growing up. It is a funny thing to be reminded about the past and have it be so near--- but just slowly slip-sliding away. (this particular friend also first got me interested in Simon and Garfunkle!)
So I am sitting here, in the entry of the house, listening to The View, wishing for more time to sit around and paint, and drink coffee and discuss and wishing that I still wrote poetry--- but sort of knowing that even if I had the time I wouldn't. And that is what is weird about growing up!