No, this is not a translation of Goethe’s poem “Willkommen and Abschied”. This is a post about how hard it every time I say goodbye.
I realize it’s a great thing to have friends in other places of the world, to know something other than just your own town walls. It’s blessing, but it comes with a curse.
On thursday Jenny came to visit. She’s been my best friend ever since I can remember. We never lived in the same village, so we only saw each other every few weeks and months – and even then we would try to think of some way we could stay just a little longer. I remember hiding from my mother when she came to pick me up and Jenny then telling her I had already gone. It was a trick that never really worked.
These last four days, two whole days in total, were so good. It was only four days and we made the most of it. And we might see each other again in March.
Last night I couldn’t really sleep because I kept thinking about the fact that she was leaving. You know it’s never really long enough. We had a great time from the second she arrived at Frankfurt main station. But the better it was, the more if now feels like something’s been taken away from me.
It’s the same, every time I leave Switzerland. Every time I go there I appreciate the towns, the mountains, the green fields, yes, even the cows and most of all the people even more.
I couldn’t just go back. I would miss Germany now. I would miss the people here, I would miss vivid Frankfurt.
The further I go, the more I want to travel, the bigger grows the fear that I’ll never have “home”.
I know I can’t be constantly happy. I will be happy when I’m with my friends here or with my family or when I’m in Switzerland or when my friends from Switzerland are here or when I’m travelling – but right now, honestly, I’m not.
I’ll just try to get happy again for today and remind myself that without goodbyes, there would be no welcomes.