Finally it was time.
Far away from worries, everyday life I said goodbye to Berlin. Not to run away, but I needed a time-out. When the plane took off, it was as if the world was taking a deep breath and standing still for a moment. Up there where the city is just a miniature of itself I thought: the perfect place, the moment to write my book. I would sit at the terraces just like I did before, flooded with ideas and inspiration, writing chapter after chapter. I would proudly hold my finished book in my hands and take the flight home. But that wasn’t the case. One day after I arrived my laptop gave up and left me. Without a single explanation. I begged him to stay but he went on strike. Without ifs and buts. That was it with us. After 2 so intimate years. And now? If this situation had happened to me 3 years ago I would probably have panicked. My vacation? Definitely ruined. I sat down and thought. Calmly. My loud voices in the background, I didn’t listened to them. I won’t let myself roll over emotions. In Hanoi I said goodbye to my laptop.
“We’ll see each other again in 2-3 weeks when you’re ready for me again.”
And then I went north into nature. When I got there I looked over the green, which seemed even more saturated from the sun. Children played catch. They played in puddles left behind by the warm rain yesterday. I picked up my coffee. It was still hot and tasted bitter-sweet. What I had in mind was to reconstruct moments of happiness. And that exactly. That doesn’t work, because they are unique and would lose their magic with time. And as much as we want it, every experience would be different. Worse, better or simply different. Life teaches us again and again to let things happen and these are far from our control. So there it was again: My expectation. Something that so often stands in our way. The expectation to create a perfect setting and the expectation for me to function in this setting and finish my book.
So I also said goodbye to my expectation and sent her to my laptop for a few weeks of proper reflection and rest. I don’t need her.
I looked at the kids. If I would’ve sit here with my laptop I would probably never hear the children laughing so much. If I was busy typing, I wouldn’t notice the smell of fresh coffee so much. Instead of writing, I sank into the moment of my environment. Which was different from what I had imagined but brought with it another speciality. Rich in idyll, rich in peace. And suddenly the farewell of my laptop seemed to me like the view of the city from the plane. Tiny and in miniature size. Insignificant. Oh laptop. You and me. We will find each other again. But now is not the right time. Now is the time to enjoy and let go. Especially from constraints and expectations. And even if I write these lines in my notebook, quite oldschool, by hand. (That I I never forgot…) It all has its right.
Just as right as life is.
Have you ever felt life is fleeing away?
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