Laurel Elisabeth Stevens

Bike riding to the store has its limitations By January of last year I felt like I was really quite adjusted to living in Hannover.   On a chilly January day two friends and I met to walk together and then get a few things at the grocery store.  We planned to then take the tram back home.  It was a lovely, brisk walk.  Two Americans and a German who lived in the US for five years have much to talk about.  Soon we were at the store doing our shopping.  In between the produce and the dairy section, I saw my neighbor, Frau K . . K . .. what was her name?  I simply couldn’t remember, although I had seen her a number of times and had chatted with her husband.  She was in her late 70s, a tall woman with excellent posture and silvery white hair.  I got up enough nerve to say, “Guten Tag.”  On earlier occasions when I had talked with my neighbor and her husband, it was her husband who was always the friendly one, with English that he le...

Frau Kranz lives across the street from us.  She is in her early 70s.  Her husband is seven years older.  We often see him out walking, probably takes a couple walks a day.  Several weeks ago Frau Kranz saw me at the grocery store and asked how I got there.  I told her I walked there with friends.  She said, “next time you must ring the doorbell and I will bring you.  You must.”  I smiled and agreed, but I was wondering how I could possibly do that.  I didn’t want to be a bother.  I was too shy.  She would see what I was buying.  I might take too long.  When I was paying for my groceries she asked if she could take my things home for me so I wouldn’t have to carry them.  Oh dear, I thought, she really does want to help!  I said no, I could take them myself and thanked her. But for the rest of the week I procrastinated going to the store, thinking she might see me there and wonder why I hadn’t asked her to bring m...