Laurel Elisabeth Stevens

Dear Mom and Dad, A week and two days ago the packers came to your house in Houston.  All your piles of belongings, sorted for “air,” “sea,” or “storage” were boxed up and labeled.  And tonight you will spend your third night in your new home in London.   Your two-day stay with us was wonderful.  I didn’t think about you leaving.  I just enjoyed having you here. As I mentally prepared for your move, I keep thinking about my last sight of you as you left for Vietnam in 2003.  I was seven months pregnant, wondering how you could leave me as my hour of need approached.  But really I knew why.  You went with your husband.  You belonged to each other and I, for nearly three years at that point, belonged to another.  And it was good.   Of course, you could hardly stand not being there when Elisabeth was born.  We called you on the phone somehow, and Dad, newly christened “Grandpère” jumped out of bed in his excitemen...

I just realized that I was already logged in to Blogger, and the words were all in English.  It didn't say "Jetzt anmelden" anymore. Someone I had just met last week asked me, "Aren't you just thrilled to be back?"  How to explain in a sentence the mixture of emotions and memories and thoughts within? This container traveled over the ocean: Hannover, Bremerhaven, Port of Houston, The Woodlands We're moved in to our new home.  There's a long story there, but I don't want to rehash it anymore, except to say that in the last couple of months we've had too many moments of realizing that lots and lots of things have gone wrong for us.  We took turns telling each other that it is simply part of the process.  It's a big transition.  But often we really felt besieged.  And frustrated and irritated and wanting to blame someone.  Really most of it wasn't our fault.  But some of it was our fault.  And sometimes there wasn't anyone to...

I woke up this morning (Saturday) before 6 AM suddenly remembering "Our internet is being cut off today!"  I nearly jumped out of bed and ran to the computer.  I needed to write.  (and post).  Our computer will be packed up on Monday, so losing these two things brings me right back to where I was in those early days in Celle, except not quite.  I still have my iPhone.  But that brings up the age gap--I just don't see myself blogging from my iPhone.  But who knows.  The need to post our progress might just drive me to it.  Usually, however, it is better if I put a little bit of distance between the actual events and the blog post--it's more fun for you to read. This week has been quite an emotional roller coaster, not so much the nostalgic kind, but the kind of emotion that comes when everything seems to be going wrong.  Most of the problems have to do with leaving this house and getting to the next one.  But we have a lot of good ...

Germany: at least we've got the map puzzle I had to pick up a couple of things at the grocery store yesterday, but rather than just getting the salami and fleishwurst for sandwiches, it seemed like everything was calling my name.  On one hand I’m trying to use up everything in my house so I’m not wasteful, but on the other hand I see this as the last time I can buy Bifis, Ritter chocolate, so many kinds of Milka bars, coffee from Panama Kaffee, Faber-Castell pencils that come in a multitude of sizes and colors, shoes for me . . . And I really must make sure I’ve tasted everything the bakery has to offer.     We’re down to the three week mark.  I sort of wish I could just skip to May 25th or so, but on the other hand I’m not ready to leave.  I was walking in town a few days ago, going the street remembering my first impressions.  I thought fondly of early events that at the time seemed traumatic but now make me nostalgic.  “Oh, there’s the pl...

Just enjoying the sunshine and the rooftops This is the time when the question becomes common: “So, when are you leaving?” or “Not long now?”  or “Are you still here?” The last one is the worst.  After being in Houston for 2 weeks, back in Hannover for a few days, then on vacation for a week, John got that question more than once at work on Monday. It’s also the time when I think, “Is this the last time I’ll buy laundry detergent here?”   I look in our bathroom cabinet and wonder, “Can I get this exact same kind of Nivea night cream in the U.S. or should I buy it here while I can?” Funny that two years ago I was stocking up on things American so I wouldn’t have to figure out what to buy here.  As if they didn’t have razors, toothpaste and deodorant here.  They do. And really nice bath soaks.  That’s what I want to bring back--but they are liquid and they come in glass bottles.  We’ll see.  John always gets a kick out o...

Elisabeth has been excited about playing piano in the school talent show but I just found out that the auditions are the day we are flying back to the U.S.  I wonder if this news will bring her first tears regarding our move. So far I think the kids are taking it easier than we are.  They don’t think all these big thoughts like, “We thought we’d be here longer” or “What will the transition be like?” or “Will Henry keep his German?  Will any of us keep our German?”  They don’t yet know or anticipate the ache that is left after saying good-bye to dear friends who have not only helped us through a difficult transition, but have brought a dimension to our stay that we never could’ve imagined.  The kids are thinking about the new house, returning to Elisabeth’s piano teacher, homeschooling, VBS at Grace, new gymnastics classes, friends, friends, friends.  I asked Elisabeth what she will be most sad about leaving here, and she said, “Friends!”...

I’ve had two phone calls in the last two days that have utterly bewildered me.  The first was a man speaking German who sounded very friendly--as if we knew each other already.  I understood it was something about our move, but the introduction was so fast that I had no idea why he was calling.  If I could translate the conversation into English, it might have gone something like this (I’m imagining what he probably said, but only based on what I understood later). Caller: Hello, Mrs. Stevens!  This is Schaefer from Spangenberg.  Greetings to your family.  I understand you’re moving. Me: Ah, hello!  Yes? Caller: I’m calling to schedule your household goods survey. Me: Yes? Ah, who are you? Caller: Mr. Schaefer from Spangenberg.   Me: I’m sorry, could you say that again? Caller: This is Mr. Shaefer from Spangenberg.  Your husband works for Baker Hughes and you are moving back, yes?  I’m calling to schedule th...