Goodbyes

In doing our final rounds of goodbyes, my friend Michele, who had returned home to Boston one month before us, warned me,  "Saying goodbye is hard enough, but I wasn't ready for how emotional it was to say goodbye to the people who cared for and loved Gus.  That's a whole different kind of goodbye."
Thank goodness for Michele's warning, for it was entirely true.


Here is William saying goodbye to Carrolla -- the kinderkrippe caregiver at my gym.  In our last 6 months, Will and I had worked into a beautiful routine of grabbing a brezn on the way to the gym for him to enjoy while getting to play while Mom got to work out.  It was great preparation for his impending launch into daycare once we got back to the states, plus a great jolt for mom to lose her final pregnancy pounds.  (Despite my daily capuccino habit I'd started on the way home from the gym!)  Carrolla had encouraged me not to come running every time I hear William cry.  She also, unbenownst to us, exposed William to the most German he ever got on a daily basis.  I credit her with much of his short-lived German vocabulary (erdbeere!) and to-this-day his beautiful ear for picking up new words: English, Spanish, or Mandarin.  I wonder if his photo is still on her wall . . . 

Another fond farewell was to our beloved Otis, Will's favorite teacher at Gymboree.  We followed Otis from class to class as we grew through the ages.  I enjoyed watching him grow as a teacher and loved to watch Will clamor to be near his contagious energy and positivity.  It was easier to say goodbye to Otis knowing he was launching back down under and returning home to Australia a few weeks after us.

Aufweidersehen, Frau Ostermayer.  

While I never met my goal of getting ourselves invited over for one of her fabulous smelling Bavarian meals, we will never forget the sweet old lady who lived beneath us.  She often hung out her living room window watching the world go by.  Always quick with a wave and happy hello to anyone who passed by.  We'd often see her sitting at a cafe table drinking a beer in the center of Haidhausen, giving her bad knees a rest and breaking up the long walk home from the grocery store.  Bless her for being so tolerant of the ever-increasing noise on her ceiling--all a result our super mobile toddler.  In one of my half-understood conversations with her, I politely apologized for any excess noise we added to her life.  (Don't even ask me how to say it now; I have no clue!)  She told me it didn't bother her at all.  She, in fact, loved it.  Anytime she heard commotion on her ceiling, she'd look at her husband and exclaim, "William ist im aktion!"  Bless her sweet, sweet heart.