On Friday afternoon, as the 777 was descending, and Manhattan was standing so proudly out the window of my quite glorious first class flat bed seat, tears were streaming down my face. It wasn't that I was sad to be home, it was that I had no way of knowing how I'd get back. When I left Augsburg two years ago, I knew in my heart I'd be back again and without that same peace: tears. I was so lucky and fortunate to have then spent the next few hours out to lunch with my best friends, then out to drinks in the City. I'm currently at my parents' house, where I've been for the past 48 hours. I spent every one of them lying down watching an embarrassingly large amount of television and eating meat (my host family was on a meat-minimalist diet). There are a few things that are for sure: I'm cutting off my cable in the apartment, I'm going to a different gym with classes because my knee won't permit me to be a marathon runner (and I'm okay with that). I do need to make it to that soup kitchen and start volunteering. And achieving fluency in the German language. It's quite the list of goals, but all within my reach and all things I've always wanted to do anyway. The time has come, the Walrus said, to stop talking of things and doing them ;)
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