A Village in Rheinland-Pfalz (Germany)
I'm sluggish. I get out of bed slowly and ease into the day even more slowly. Sometimes this sluggishness has its advantages: my mind isn't immediately filled with countless ideas and plans shooting through my head like fireworks. So I tackle only the one thing that's right in front of me.
After getting up, I go to the bathroom first, then wash my face and brush my teeth. Right after that, I put the coffee on. My usual rhythm on an ordinary day. The windows are wide open, the sun greets me over the rooftops and shines bright and warm into the upper floor.
Slowly, my senses come to life, and I want nothing more than to be here. I feel calm and completely at ease. Then I switch on the computer and log in; the working day can begin. The coffee is ready, and I slowly pour it into one of those handmade clay cups that I bought on one of our trips to Brittany. I use it every day.
I sit down in my armchair, my legs tucked under a woolen blanket, the coffee in my hand. I watch the steam rising from the cup into the cool room, and I breathe. That's all: I breathe and I am here, here in our home. In this moment, I feel happy.
This is how a day can begin.
Shortly before noon, I get up from my desk and walk to the window. Between the houses, I have a clear view of the hills with their meadows and forests. Right behind them, a thick, white blanket of fog lies over the landscape, and above it, a brilliant blue sky. What a wonderful sight.
We change clothes and bundle up warmly, because despite the sunshine it's cool outside. Shortly after twelve, we're up on the fields, walking toward the blanket of fog. It has settled over the entire Moselle Valley, but up here it is sunny and bright.
It's as if we were above the clouds, as if we were walking on them. And in a way, we are. Sometimes it feels like we're floating. As if this were the highest point of happiness, and we were allowed to call it our home. At last, I can say with certainty: we have arrived.
At last, we have arrived.
I'm sluggish. I get out of bed slowly and ease into the day even more slowly. Sometimes this sluggishness has its advantages: my mind isn't immediately filled with countless ideas and plans shooting through my head like fireworks. So I tackle only the one thing that's right in front of me.
After getting up, I go to the bathroom first, then wash my face and brush my teeth. Right after that, I put the coffee on. My usual rhythm on an ordinary day. The windows are wide open, the sun greets me over the rooftops and shines bright and warm into the upper floor.
Slowly, my senses come to life, and I want nothing more than to be here. I feel calm and completely at ease. Then I switch on the computer and log in; the working day can begin. The coffee is ready, and I slowly pour it into one of those handmade clay cups that I bought on one of our trips to Brittany. I use it every day.
I sit down in my armchair, my legs tucked under a woolen blanket, the coffee in my hand. I watch the steam rising from the cup into the cool room, and I breathe. That's all: I breathe and I am here, here in our home. In this moment, I feel happy.
This is how a day can begin.
Shortly before noon, I get up from my desk and walk to the window. Between the houses, I have a clear view of the hills with their meadows and forests. Right behind them, a thick, white blanket of fog lies over the landscape, and above it, a brilliant blue sky. What a wonderful sight.
We change clothes and bundle up warmly, because despite the sunshine it's cool outside. Shortly after twelve, we're up on the fields, walking toward the blanket of fog. It has settled over the entire Moselle Valley, but up here it is sunny and bright.
It's as if we were above the clouds, as if we were walking on them. And in a way, we are. Sometimes it feels like we're floating. As if this were the highest point of happiness, and we were allowed to call it our home. At last, I can say with certainty: we have arrived.
At last, we have arrived.