It’s too quiet around here. In the fog of sleep deprivation last night, the single sound I heard most was pinched sniffling. Everyone for some reason trying not to cry, when everyone already is, together. And stifled weeping is tragic, and tears burn. I don’t actually miss any of them.
This is likely foresight speaking, as the ones I connected well with I’ll be seeing soon enough in Germany. I’ve what I consider to be honest invitations to The Netherlands, Spain, and Norway, too. I must make it to Denmark to visit those guys, which is something I can accomplish easily enough if I spend a weekend in Berlin, I should think. Or maybe the Norway weekend I’ll do a little island-hopping. Never did get in with the French. I’m still modestly surprised I didn’t want to.
I’ve been promised a phone call around 5 or 6AM Sunday morning, when planes touch down in Germany. I said I’d likely be up, drinking the last bottles of German beer from the party, and even if I’m not, well, it’s awesome to see a phone number with about 4000 digits on your missed calls list.
I do miss them. A lot.