it is 8 am sunday morning. i am disheveled and poorly rested. it is cold in the way that promises warmth later. chilled and quiet and bright. i am in my lace nightie, wrapped in the funny square coverlets germans use in place of comforters and sheets. i feel as still and as full of anticipation as this morning.
thomas has left for osnabrück, where his sister lives. he has decided to visit her before we leave on our journey. we will leave for prague tomorrow instead. he asked me sweetly and somewhat nervously if he could go alone, as if he were here to take care of me. i said, of course. i am secretly glad for this day alone to say goodbye to berlin. to say, see you soon. to say, thank you.

yesterday was lovely. it was beautiful and full and saturated. we shared an enormous breakfast, watched part of the berlin marathon, wandered through the tiergarten, visited some sights, had drinks and read books on the river, took naps, talked. then we went for the most incredible dinner. thomas doesn't eat meat and i found this restaurant in a magazine that is all vegetarian. he always laments that vegetarians usually have one choice on the menu, so i was glad to take him somewhere he could eat anything he wanted. we took a long walk to get there and found ourselves at the address, which appeared to be a driveway filled with dumpsters. after asking for directions, we found we were actually at the right place. in an alleyway, behind piles of trash and parked cars, there was a locked, unmarked door with an intercom. we buzzed to ask and found ourselves in a dark empty room. after some more wandering, we finally made our way into the back, upstairs and found a quiet, lovely restaurant with cozy tables, plush banquette seating and an open kitchen. we had three course meals, lingering over brie-stuffed filo dough, baked eggs, and grilled peaches. parmesan dumplings and creamy polenta with peas and truffles. white chocolate souffle and espresso tartlets and poached blueberries. wine and sparkling water and cofffee. we stayed for nearly four hours, our endless conversation punctuated by tastes of each delicious thing that appeared at our table. it was exquisite. and he refuses to let me pay for anything. i am certain that, after 10 days, i will be fat and completely spoiled.
each moment i am surprised at the things i am learning about this person who seemed so familiar. sometimes i think we become so accustomed to seeing people that we stop discovering things about them. being here, where everything is unknown, has renewed my sense of wonder, of questioning, and that has extended to the familiar and i feel glad for it. i am glad to be getting to know my friends again. and myself.

i left seven weeks ago today. just think. i can hardly wrap my mind around it, around all the emotions and experiences of the last month and a half. i am surprised by some of the things that have been difficult and others that have come with ease. i am suprised at the people i've kept in touch with, the unexpected people who have become even more present in my life in my absence, the people i think about often, the ways in which i miss and love and stay connected. nothing is as i anticipated, yet now, in this moment, it all makes sense. everything is illuminated and clear. everything is just as it's supposed to be.
thomas and i finished our books at the same time yesterday. he was laughing and i, as usual, was welling up with tears. we sat on a floating dock in sun chairs, having cocktails.
in the last few weeks, everything i read, everything i see, every experience i have seems to come at just the right time. to either echo or enhance what it is i'm living. it is eerie. or maybe i am just listening differently, watching differently. in the last pages, my book said this,
nothing is in vain. you don't go anywhere in life, eliza, you just keep walking.

sometimes i wonder why i haven't read certain authors or books before, why i hadn't already been to europe, why i didn't make certain choices that all now seem so obvious and positive and necessary. and i am coming to believe that maybe i just wasn't ready. that now is the time for what is now and later will be the time for what is later. that everything, despite how it may seem or how frustrating it may be in the process, unfolds as it's supposed to. that something in the world is dictating life and ensuring that that life is beautiful and good.
it is not every day i cry happy tears before 9 am in the morning. but then again, not every day is my last day in berlin.
my last day in berlin. my first day of something else.
you just keep walking.