I wanted to write

...about seeing "Aida" last night, about how the process of doing something one last time in Berlin has been sort of anti-climactic, about the progress of packing and realizing what a great, crazy year this has been, about the kinds of things people will choose from a pile of kitchen materials. Or about a cute new Scandanavian t-shirt company I discovered. Or an explanation of when tall boots don't look good with a shorter skirt. Or how the city seems to have decided that making it cloudy again will make it easier on me to leave. Or how I might finally score one of the opera posters from the subway that I've wanted since 2006.

But I can't really process it right now. I sit in my treetop nest this morning and realize that I am slowly turning it back into the place I found it. My things are off the walls, off the shelves, slowly re-arranging themselves into suitcases, being re-distributed into recycling bins, my friends' apartments, the homes of strangers. But despite the weird excavation of myself from the city, I am still enjoying myself here. It's all proceeding apace.

There is a strange comfort in being so certain that I'll be back again. Brother B has set a good example of how to do that every year or so; I get it, now. I don't really want to work on Germany for the rest of my (please let me get a job as an Africanist for a while) academic life, but I'll figure out ways to get us back here.

That said, I had a moment of light but intense relief last week, about home. I have loved it here, but America is still home. I can see Manhattan when I hear certain songs, see the drive to Kolz's office down Woodward in Detroit, the view out my window at home in Illinois. Cars that look normal, water without so much other gunk in it. I can't even begin to think about being able to read everything effortlessly, no more insane compound words. Being able to call my friends without judging time differences?! I am currently most excited about: Kolz, Mexican food, and tumble dryers.

Thanks for the moving tips, by the by - I borrowed a scale from a friend, and the measure of calm it has given has been surprising. Especially when I've packed one suitcase that is, truly, entirely full of paper.