There is a new blue knit pillow on our bed.
It’s not really a new item in our house, per say. It used to be a sweater.
I wore this sweater the day Martin and I met. It wasn’t nearly so stretched out and saggy back then. ”You should turn it into something,” Martin said when I tossed it into a pile of clothes that didn’t fit anymore. (Nostalgia is our middle name.)
Every time a friend asks what type of souvenir I get for myself in Germany, I always answer with far too much zeal, “Shoes!”
They’ll kind of roll their eyes and turn to Martin, begging for a more stereotypical answer, something like chocolate or a new pair of Leiderhosen, I suppose.
Oh but of course they don’t get a run of the mill answer from him, either. Martin adds just as many explanation marks as he announces, “I bought us a phone made by Siemens!” or “I found this cool strand of LEDs!”
Martin had to get an official photo taken today. Germans are very particular about identification photos. For starters, you absolutely cannot smile. Your face must be centered, level, and occupying a very specific dimension. It isn’t like the US where you can flash your cheesiest smile at the post office’s low resolution camera and call it good if you’re getting a passport.
I’m a storycatcher, and I believe story is power. It enriches our lives, challenges us to dream bigger, and strengthens future generations.
This blog chronicles the journey of making a vintage airplane hangar home and celebrating stories. Say hi…
