A Village in Rheinland-Pfalz (Germany)
I am tired. Very tired. And exhausted. Not just from the past few days, but for weeks and months. We have been in the new house for two weeks now – an old house with a large garden that we are renting. The first fixed place after four years as nomads.
It is not yet a home; there is still quite a bit to be done. We have repainted every room, but the spaces are sparsely furnished with the few things we had stored in a nine-square-meter storage unit in Berlin. Everything made it through the time and the move without damage.
In the bedroom stands our bed, but the clothes are still in bags and suitcases. The living room has a sofa and a table – otherwise it is empty. The kitchen has a fridge, a freezer and two tables. The bathrooms are clear; in the other rooms, packed boxes are stacked up.
We are in the process of arriving.
Somewhere along the way, a feeling of home will hopefully emerge. With all the work, I have so far had only one chance to take a short walk across the fields at the edge of the village – getting a first impression of the wide, open landscape. And only once have we been out in the village.
The area and the village are quiet, which can only be said of the house when the heating is not running – because then the chimney, which runs straight through the middle of the house, whistles. Fortunately, it does not bother me, though I cannot quite ignore it either. The rooms are small, but since we have so few things, they do not feel full.
I am looking forward to the garden, where things are slowly beginning to bloom. It has changed a great deal in these first two weeks. The trees were still bare; now they are adorned with blossoms, and soon they will bear fruit – I am already curious about that. The lawn is growing, no longer brown but a deep, rich green. They say this is the time when grass grows fastest.
There is enough space to plant vegetables or other things. I am looking forward to that too. And I hope that more joy will grow within me – the more spring gives way to summer and the more time we spend in the house and the surrounding area. This sense of anticipation gives me strength that I otherwise lack.
I am tired. Very tired. And exhausted. Not just from the past few days, but for weeks and months. We have been in the new house for two weeks now – an old house with a large garden that we are renting. The first fixed place after four years as nomads.
It is not yet a home; there is still quite a bit to be done. We have repainted every room, but the spaces are sparsely furnished with the few things we had stored in a nine-square-meter storage unit in Berlin. Everything made it through the time and the move without damage.
In the bedroom stands our bed, but the clothes are still in bags and suitcases. The living room has a sofa and a table – otherwise it is empty. The kitchen has a fridge, a freezer and two tables. The bathrooms are clear; in the other rooms, packed boxes are stacked up.
We are in the process of arriving.
Somewhere along the way, a feeling of home will hopefully emerge. With all the work, I have so far had only one chance to take a short walk across the fields at the edge of the village – getting a first impression of the wide, open landscape. And only once have we been out in the village.
The area and the village are quiet, which can only be said of the house when the heating is not running – because then the chimney, which runs straight through the middle of the house, whistles. Fortunately, it does not bother me, though I cannot quite ignore it either. The rooms are small, but since we have so few things, they do not feel full.
I am looking forward to the garden, where things are slowly beginning to bloom. It has changed a great deal in these first two weeks. The trees were still bare; now they are adorned with blossoms, and soon they will bear fruit – I am already curious about that. The lawn is growing, no longer brown but a deep, rich green. They say this is the time when grass grows fastest.
There is enough space to plant vegetables or other things. I am looking forward to that too. And I hope that more joy will grow within me – the more spring gives way to summer and the more time we spend in the house and the surrounding area. This sense of anticipation gives me strength that I otherwise lack.