Feelings

Living in Europe during a pandemic can be trapping and conflict. Especially if you left your super social life in a Metropol and moved to a tiny village in the north of The Netherlands and face a pandemic. Then you get the feeling of being trapped.

Weekends passing by laying on the couch and watching the ceilings while drinking all the wine of the world. Drinking to those weekends that you went to three concerts on one Saturday evening because they were too good to miss. Begging the taxi driver to drive you 5 km away otherwise, you’d have to walk and you’d miss half of the show. Those sweet summer evenings that made you feel alive, part of the city and part of a community. And here you are, far from all that, trapped on your couch.

You’re a city gal. Can’t change, won’t change.

Even though the whole world is smashed and packed, even though the whole world is changed 180 degrees and we’re all part of this confliction of facing ourselves, I miss being trapped and smashed and packed in a city, where people have bigger worlds full of bigger dreams and achievements. Realizing this after a few months of living in this tiny little village doesn’t change my situation. In fact, it makes it even more complicated.

I moved here following my feelings for a man whom I’m married to. He grew up here and living here again makes him happy and united. United with his childhood memories, family, and friends. I can’t relate to that but I understand and respect.

So my dear. Here we are drinking to the facts and complications of life and decisions. So here we are my friend, living the moment of change. I feel it. In the air. It is coming.

Z.