I took my daughter to the train station this morning, and saw her off. Among the most sorrowful moments of my life, but a moment that every (or most) parents experience. I couldn’t keep the tears from my eyes for the next hour. My beloved companion was gone, the girl I had carried home when she weighed a little over 2 pounds. Basho once wrote a famous haiku on the pain of separation:
行く春や Spring passing—
鳥啼き魚の birds cry and tears
目は泪 in the eyes of fish.
I couldn’t stop thinking of it. The pain was my own. Preferring to be alone, I walked to the Schloss Charlottenburg.
That was where the Queen Charlotte stayed, and rarely consorted with Frederick the Great. Frederick was gay and had been forced into marriage. The Schloss was mostly destroyed in the final months of WWII. Only a handful of rooms survived. The rest is a reconstruction. I didn’t actually go inside (having already been inside) but walked the extensive garden in the back, then along the canal that abuts the garden.
I picked a park bench where I wrote another page or two in my novel. I sat under three hundred year old oak trees that every so often dropped acorn.s Later I had too much to drink, and walked it off during nightfall.
I’m not normally a drinker, and look forward to the apple cider of Vermont’s September. I do love Berlin, but am discovering that my real home is in my writing.
city streets but even so—hearing only the falling acorn 235: August 23rd 2019 | bottlecap