That one time I lived in Germany

Last night while backing up some files on my external hard drive, I found myself wandering into my old photo folders from my time in Germany. It’s altogether unbelievable that it’s been almost 6 years. As I clicked through each photo I was instantly reminded of all the time that has past and all that has changed. Yet I still laughed at the same memories; meals cooked with 20 friends stuffed in a kitchen, running after trains, hopeless mis-use of German grammatical cases, parties in the university cafeteria and dancing in the rain at 2am. The further into the folders I delved, the more the lump in my throat grew. These friends were, at one moment in time, my home. Ours was a concentrated friendship. Strangers put together in a blender for a year, only to go our separate ways at the end.
I loved these guys (and still do!).

I could wax on about all the things I miss (I developed very close relationships with a few German bakeries) and how that time was so wonderful – but that’s just depressing. Like any good time that’s come and gone, I miss it. But I’m also grateful that I got to experience it, and everything that those months taught me. With no obligations of work (or really even school) the year disappeared and gave way to travel, parties, dinners and language. I miss all of the friendships that came out of it but 6 years later, part of me feels like it was only yesterday.

Last night I looked through all the photos, closed the folders, unplugged the hard drive and put it back on the shelf. Grateful.