…or maybe I´m just much bigger.
Moving back to my old village, my childhood home, is not as odd as I´d thought it would be. Of course I have the small issue of not knowing how to greet people who seem remotely farmiliar, but my terrible memory for names can´t place. When I was little, I got away with simply saying “Grüessäch” to everybody, which is a polite/formal greeting to an older person (older than yourself) or a stranger. Now, at twenty years of age, I am considered an adult (terrifying, I know). So, if I see someone I am supposed to know by name – I can say hello (insert name). Until now I´ve got away with a shy hello and a quick escape. But eventually, I may have to face the reality that I have forgotten everybody´s names – or that I never knew them. It´s a grown-up thing to know Monica and Richard Blauman for Alepenstrasse, even though you have only talked to them once.
Not much has changed here since I left. The village is just a quiet, the hobby-gardeners just as middle-aged, the chickens just as cute and the fences just as electrically charged.
Though when I was ten, the main road in the village seemed so long. Now it´s…really quite short. I suppose my strides are larger now, or faster, and I am higher up so I can see further into the distance.
If I´m lucky most people won´t recognise me anymore. I´ve not seen any of my old class mates, though I know they´re here somewhere. I think most of them work outside of the village (or study or whatever), go home and stay in. There is not much to do here on a social level. There used to be a disco up in the old church/community building, maybe there still is. The thing is, those places are cool when you´re twelve. Or really drunk.
But really anything interesting; bars, clubs, theatres, cinemas – is not in this village.
Oh well, I guess I´ll have more time to study once uni starts.