Irene always made me laugh (and hard), especially when she told me she was the philosophy teacher. “They really make you study that here?” I asked. Apparently it’s required in public high schools in Spain, Italy and France still.
I am not one to think too hard. Sure, I’m a picky consumer, tend to look a bit closer before leaping and over-analyze (again) all those books that were required reading in high school, but not a thinker. That’s for people with too much time.
But all I’ve done in the past few days is think. I get lost in thought at school and my babies start squirming (then kicking and punching). I dar mil vueltas sobre la almohada, toss and turn, at night. In one bleak moment, I started crying on my top-bunk hostel bed in Berlin. I am entering into the “What am I doing next year?!?!?!?!?!” anxiety before the orange trees have been picked, before my flamenco dress accessories have been picked out.
Remember my last post, when I quoted “To Kill a Mockingbird?” About not really realizing how much you love something until someone threatens to take it away? My new reading is Sevilla. Yes, I am planning on moving.
Kike has an offer to move to a small town in Germany to work on a base and learn a new plane. Big promotion, right at the center of Europe, my last chance before settling down. What’s holding me back?
For starters, I finally have a steady job, work papers and a group of friends. I know the city center like the back of my hand, can scout out the cheapest beer and don’t get sick of looking at the Giralda, even if I am sick of climbing it. And I just honestly love it here.
Kike and I have gone back and forth all week, and I did a mental pros and cons. His biggest doubt is that he can withstand the cold, whereas mine is that I won’t learn German and won’t get a job. And it’s four years. Four years is as long as I spent in high school, in college and in Spain. Sixteen years of my life in a different place!
He gave me a deadline. Friday morning.
He texted me this morning at recess. He asked, “What do I do? Do I ask for it, or no?”
And I said, pídelo. Do it, Kike.
I soon may be picking up German…