Category: Posts

Omie would have been 99 years old today. It’s the first thought I had when I glanced at the calendar saw it was November 4th.

Unfortunately, my mind does a good job at shielding me from thinking about her often. Even though it’s been seven years, I still can’t allow myself to think about her too deeply. It’s a kind of grief that no matter the amount of time that passes, if I sit with it for too long, it will consume me. When I was younger I used to ask my mom about her dad. She lost him when she was 19 and still to this day as a 60 year old woman, she can’t recall memories of him without crying. She usually changes the subject at a certain point, I’m assuming for the same reason I do when it comes to Omie.

Sometimes I find myself at a confusing crossroads when it comes to memories and recalling the essence of a person who’s no longer here. I don’t know how to honor them in my own memory and give myself the space to feel sad without overdoing it. I haven’t struck the balance, yet. On the contrary, I don’t want to let my self-protective measures wipe them away from my long-term storage. When Omie passed away, I took a few of her scarves and pieces of clothing and put them into two ziplock bags. The smell of her house is one that could catapult me back to 1997 and make me feel both comforted and tormented. On a day like today, I’ll grab that bag from the top of my closet and hold one of her things close to my face, just so I can remember.

I wrote in my journal today and it got me thinking about the holidays, celebrations and how dull they’ve felt since Omie wasn’t here anymore. I’ve done my best over the years but no doubt, the light has dimmed. When I think of Thanksgiving or Christmas, I think of her apartment and the small decorations she’d place throughout her space. In the off-season, they lived in a little recycled cardboard box labeled with the appropriate holiday in her laundry room storage closet. At Christmas, she’d put out an animated skating rink. She’d garnish her furniture with glistening garland. She exchanged the tablecloths for ones with poinsettias or Chritmas trees. We’d drink our hot chocolate out of seasonal mugs for a few weeks. In the kitchen, she’d have the radio on the station that played Christmas songs 24/7. Her rituals weren’t forced or manufactured. They were subtle and authentic.

Almost ten years ago, she had to move to an assisted living facility. I had just graduated college and I was still coming home regularly to visit. This would be the first Christmas she didn’t spend at her home, our home. The condo where she had spent nearly thirty years was frozen in time, just as she left it. My brother was also visiting home for Christmas that year and we spent a lot of time aimlessly driving around our hometown and stopping at gas stations for coffee.

One night, we had the idea to go over to Omie’s condo and decorate it for Christmas. We located her box of decorations and did our best to make it feel like it used to. As soon as it got dark, we drove over to her assisted living facility and essentially kidnapped her. We checked her out of the facility, got her down to the lobby and into the car. We drove the eight minutes to her house and she quickly realized where we were going. We helped her up the flight of stairs to her front door and brought her into the living room. We made food together and celebrated Christmas like we always had, just the three of us.

My best friend asked me once if I could have say, 5 doors that I could walk through at any point, which ones would I choose? It could be anywhere in the world, any period of time. This one would be one of them. I would give anything to walk through that front door and see Omie sitting at the counter, drinking her coffee, eating her rye toast, listening to the radio. To be able to sit in her living room and watch it snow while we watch Charlie Brown. To eat apple pancakes and play cards at her dining room table. I don’t even need the other four doors, that’s all I want.

When I think of Omie’s birthday, I think about all the time that’s gone by since we last saw each other. I think about all the things I’d want to tell her. I wonder what she’d think about me living in Germany. I wish I could tell her about all the things I’ve learned and how much I look to her in times when I need advice—how I strive to be like her in every way. My apartment feels like hers and that’s by design. I now have a little recycled cardboard box with decorations for Christmas, a tradition or ritual I haven’t allowed myself to previously partake.

And today, I’ll do something for her in some way. Whether it’s having a piece of cake (or strudel) or lighting a candle in a church. I don’t want to forget her. I can’t.

Happy Birthday, Omie. Alles Gute zum Gerburtstag. Ich liebe dich für immer.

There is some comfort (and distress) in the fact that I know when I’m feeling burnt out or low, it’s a cycle. On the day I feel the worst, I can at least find peace in the fact that the next day, I’ll feel one hundred times better.

And so it was! I’ve been in somewhat of a rut or mental fog for a month and some change. I got knocked off course and instead of letting myself get through it, I did things to make it worse versus things to make it better. Now, I’m in a position to use my very welcomed surge of energy to do things to get myself back into a place where I feel good again.

I walked to the Tiergarten with Russ on Saturday and I listened to background music. The sky was overcast and the leaves were bright yellow, deep orange and fiery red. He was so excited to be in a big open park, smelling everything he could. I didn’t have any plans or time I needed to be home by. I packed his water bottle in my backpack so we were free to do whatever we wanted. As we were walking through the leaves I thought, this is exactly how I want to feel on a Saturday.

I read some of my book this weekend. I got a bagel. I went for long walks. I stopped by Muji for new stationary to write letters. I drank a lot of peppermint tea. I tried a new workout class. Maybe all of these things together contributed to the lifting of the fog?

I wrote something on my substack recently which prompted a friend to ask me if I’d ever write a book. This thought has been on my mind a lot recently. I want to try, for myself if nobody else. I want to take on the challenge of either compiling essays that would constitute as a book, or develop the concept for a novel. The idea of creating characters and working on a storyline is a bit daunting and out of my comfort zone but I think it would be a good exercise for me to branch out of my normal style of writing.

We’ll see. . .

Anyway, I’m looking forward to the next two months seeing as I’m hosting both Thanksgiving and Christmas at my apartment! More on that later~

I woke up with Russ beside me, pressed into my legs, fast asleep. We took our time waking up, walked out to the living and opened up the blinds to start the day. I opened the window for Russ where his bed sits. I put on a big sweater and a pair of leggings. I brushed my teeth and did my hair. I made a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. I sat on the couch while I woke up and drank my coffee before telling Russ it was time to go outside for our morning loop.

It’s a rainy, chilly day here. I put on my warm jacket and grabbed my headphones. I listened to a my fall playlist and this was first in the rotation.

Now, I’m back home and it’s really raining. I made my second cup of coffee and I’m working from the couch. Russ is sound asleep next to me. We don’t have anywhere to be, no meetings scheduled.

This is my favorite kind of day.

it’s been a long time coming but. . . check it out! my living room is finally complete.

and soon the chair will be delivered and my little writing nook/library will be complete!

heavy into my fall fleetwood mac rotation

on loop

I get so nostalgic about the fall season in Berlin. It’s my favorite season in general but I really enjoy the season here. When I think about that first fall in my apartment, I remember waking up and putting on my sweatshirt so I could make a coffee. I think about the chilly mornings outside with Russell and the soups I made at home. During fall, I always watch my favorite seasonal movies or episodes of shows. Maybe I’ll post the list at some point.

The fall of 2023 is really special to me when I look back at it in hindsight. I was finally feeling better and felt settled in my space. I was making new friends and exploring different parts of the city. I established a good workout routine, I went across the city to go to my office and I celebrated Halloween and Thanksgiving with expat friends. The summer was brutal both weather wise and for my general state of existence. When the temperatures cooled off, life didn’t feel as heavy as it did months prior. I went to yoga after work and made dinners by myself. I lit candles and took long showers. I went for solo walks on the weekends.

One night, I met a friend for Korean food. It was a nice night because it was one of the first times we had been open with each other. We spent the rest of the night walking through the festival of lights and drinking hot chocolate. I guess I associate this time with what it felt like to get my footing again. I started to view my apartment as a safe haven for Russ and I. I celebrated a full, intense year of living in Germany and was looking forward to many more. I genuinely enjoyed Berlin and felt like I was finding myself again.

Two years later, I feel just the same. I get excited pulling out my coats and sweaters. I try to stay outside longer and look at the changing leaves. I’ve already had many teas and soups. I bought a new candle and hopefully soon, I’ll get a new chair for the apartment to make it even cozier.

I just wish my brother was here for this season, too. We had such a nice fall season when we lived together in California.

It’s been a long time coming, okay!! I finally got my new leather journal and I’ve kept it in its pristine little packaging until I’m ready to organize it. My initial thought was to have my personal journal, a common place journal and then a German learning one in the back. It’s perfect, though. It’s dark green with a red band and a purple leather bookmark. It has three notebooks inside and my last name pressed into the cover in all lowercase (of course). A prompt asked me once if I was stranded on a deserted island what three things I would bring. Without hesitation I answered: my journal, music of some kind and Russell. I love journaling and whether I do it in my private handwritten one or here, it’s something I always come back to.

Anyway, that was the little gift I gave to myself on my trip to Vienna!