I miss the days when life was simpler... When I lived abroad in a town that was older than country I was born in, full of enchantment and adventure and kind-hearted care-worn people who enjoyed life's simple pleasantries... working to live, not the other way around.
Where every morning a bread truck came by delivering delectable pastries and fresh baked bread. Farmers tended to their livestock and gardens and I bought fresh eggs every week from my landlords for the equivalent of a dollar. Elderly people swept the stoops and sidewalks every day and cared for the graves in the local cemeteries. There were times when I was even late for work because a Shepard was herding his flock down main street, but no one complained and no one minded.
At nights I slept with my windows open, even in winter, and at precisely 3 am a train would pass in the distance bellowing its soft whistle... that was the only sound the nighttime held. I've never slept so soundly since.
I miss the walk from Bibergau to Dettelbach each weekend with my Chinese Pug, Paco, and how we would sit for hours at a sidewalk cafe dining on Goulash soup and Bacchus wine.
Where fests were frequent and drunks were happy. Friends gathered often and unplanned for coffee, dinner, or just a long walk through the scenic wonderland that is Germany.
In spring, there were Federweißer and flower stands aligning the streets of small villages. And summers were never very hot; no one had air conditioners in their homes because a fan or a fresh breeze from open windows worked just fine.
Winters were often hard and always cold with the biggest snowflakes I've ever seen... a cold that would bite through whatever layers you could pile on, but there was always the fragrant aroma of sweet Glühwein in the air to warm your insides.
And the most dangerous thing that ever happened to me (short of driving on the Autobahns) was opening my front door one morning to find a neighbor's escaped goat who was just as startled as I was.
There is not a day that has gone by since that I haven't missed, ached for the only place that ever truly felt like home. When life was simpler and we worked to live, not the other way around.
"The worst feeling in the world is the homesickness that comes over a man occasionally when he is at home."
...Edward W. Howe
I remember the bakery truck... it was heaven in the afternoon when it would come rolling down the street.
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