Früling commt

Today is the nicest day we've had in Munich since October or so, yet so far, I've spent it indoors. Drinking coffee and reading and listening to music that reminds of Spring a year ago. Those first few warm days in Salem, sitting out on the balcony of the Glen Mary, drinking coffee and reading. I've come a long way since then. I looked at myself in the reflection of the window in the living room, with my face being warmed in the sun and realized I look older. My hair is longer, my eyes sterner and always looking forward into the unknown future, the strange-seeming, foreign past and the present confusion all simultaneously. The journey continues with nearly four months remaining before I'll be sitting on a plane bound for America. "The road finally gave me back, but I don't think I'll unpack. Cause I'm not sure if I live here anymore."-Bright Eyes. I feel that way about the States now, or anywhere I live really. My thoughts return to the plight of the gypsy and the constantly changing feelings of home. An odd concept. I suppose the word home can apply to just about anywhere, but lately it feels like it's anywhere that I'm not. I spent some time this morning looking at facebook photos of the times before I left. I saw one that Reid had taken of me standing in the airport talking to my mom on my cell phone. It seems so long ago, but really it was only yesterday, right? There were pictures of me and Brett in the apartment giving a thumbs up, dorky grin in front of the record player. Pictures of my surprise going-away party, pictures of Mac and Bob's. Nothing here makes me smile more than my few, fond memories of the house on Bruffey St. where I felt more at home than I have in a long time. My only doubts about coming here was that I was going to miss that life, living with Brett and Reid with Jenny in Leslie's old apartment, probably doing fuck all with my life, but at least feeling at home. I could have been happy there, I could have been at least content. But, here I am in Germany, looking back instead of looking around. I sat in the Englischergarten yesterday overlooking the park and the city. Dogs ran and played, a guy was flying a kite. Two men walked together with their arms around each other, a man played familiar tunes on an accordian. What's not to like? Except that maybe I didn't have anyone to share that moment with. The warm wind blows in through the window, moving the crappy, butterfly-adorned curtains and a sense of hope fills me to the brim more than the warm cup of tea sitting beside me. And yet, I'm still inside. I'm going out to enjoy the city and the warmth.