fountain

Dear Nana,

I just pulled out a piece of paper to write you a letter, very quickly realizing you weren't around anymore to write to. How strange that is! I hope you don't mind me writing to you this way, I still have letters unfinished for you. You left before I could mail them.

Today was one of those days, simple in its doings but beautiful in its results. I spent the morning at home working on a vast pile of laundry and working through some emails. Midday I realized that the fates were aligned in such a way that the laundry was in the dryer and the bus at the closest stop would be heading into town within moments of each other. Free from the laundry, I made my escape into town to wander and do a little "nest" shopping, as I've begun referring to it. I found a set of beautiful white linen place mats that I am eager to use. Someday the Czech and I will have a space all our own which will allow us to do so.

I wandered through the town, taking a few moments to realize that the sun was coming out and it was moderately warm. Since I had already been freed from the laundry, I seized the opportunity to enjoy the sun. I found an obliging bistro chair, ordered a cup of peppermint tea (in German) and sat. In the square where my little cafe is, there is also a fountain, nothing grand, but large enough to emit a steady stream of water. My sunshine was laced with the lapping sound of water falling into the basin of the fountain and wrapped in the delicacies of a faint breeze. I pulled out my journal and never before used pen and soaked in all I could of the environment.

It is moments like that when I feel two things simultaneously. First, European. To sit in the open air without any need for haste and enjoy a cup of tea is what it means to be European in my mind. Across the continent there are variations on this theme. The tea is replaced with coffee or wine. In Germany it is nearly always filled with a stout beer. Regardless of the beverage du jour, there is such contentment in a moment and enjoyment in a meal.

Secondly, peace. The Czech and I have been stressed lately about finding employment. Our time here ends in a month and we are as unsure as ever about where we will be when return to the States. My time alone has been filled with pining over the home we do not have. I'm not talking about a lofty mansion, but more a simple one to two bedroom apartment that we can call our own. We haven't had that since we married in March. Sitting on that bistro chair with my journal in hand, I could have cared less what the future held. Coincidentally I was working on a letter to family and friends trying to enlist them in the "Get Us a Job" cause. Letter written, I thought about the color of the sky and the feel of the wind, not about finances or employment.

The weekend is now here and I get to spend a few days with the Czech. We don't have any firm plans yet, but if the following days turn out like today, all will be well.

Have you played Canasta with Fern and Papa yet? Please give Grandma L a hug for me and teach her how to play cards. I'm mad at you two for leaving within three weeks of each other. I can barely handle one of you being gone, not both. Take care of one another.

I love you, Nana, very much.

your granddaughter,

engquist

P.S. my daydreams about returning to the States are filled with a Singer sewing machine waiting for me in a storage unit in Florida. I wish you were here to teach me how to use it.