Last days

Publishing in retrospect, as I was writing in a Word doc from my laptop in a crammed car where I don't like siblings reading over my shoulder [an ancient pet peeve of mine...?]. I wrote in German because 1) I needed the practice and 2) 4/5 of my other siblings don't understand German.  Nevertheless, putting the words here in English is odd because I am starting to realize that there really is no true translation, just best guesses on how to convert emotions and concepts. 

Anyway.

Enough rambling:

Spending my last day home at my second home in Maryland with my grandmother, the first time I’ve seen her since she’s been home from the rehab center after breaking her hip.

I awoke to a breeze off the water and the nagging voice of my conscious urging me to get up and finish at least part of my responsibilities before heading back to school tomorrow.

This time last week I was packed up two weeks in advance for school, ready to grab my bags and go. This time around I’ve let procrastination eat me alive; nothing is packed, my room is a wreck [the German word “durcheinander” comes to mind] and the realization that my summer, essentially, has been nothing but organized chaos with regards to routines, tasks, and learning [from books and also about myself-- ha!]. N

[Editor's note: insert really awkward sounding German translation here!]

Here, I am a summer later, with no order, no plan, and, as we approach the deadline for my university tuition payment, no money. 

But all that was thrown at me this summer, I have to believe there was a reason for it, and remember that. What I see, how I see it, makes all the difference. And if there's anything I learned this summer it is that there is always another way to look at something. It's like a daily, informal test [or as some teachers prefer to say, "assessment"], that I have to take. Sometimes, it's hard, like yesterday was hard. Emotionally, physically, mentally. Hard realizations, even harder conversations-- all seemingly strategically placed throughout my summer to rouse me from a state of autopilot and blind tolerance. All seeming to point at things previously gone unnoticed, to things that I am so thankful for but often don't pay enough attention to. 

Right now the sun happens to be shining, on its way down after a hard day, and the dew on the grass is carefree. Those dew drops don't have to stress about anything. They probably see all the stressors, though. 

My heart isn't angry or desperate; rather it's full, and more inclined to look forward at what is in front of me and look there for happiness. What I don't have I have full power to build, with enough time and effort. 

Nur wenn man im Moment lebt ist man eigentlich satz.