This morning I awoke to pouring rain and thick mist over the black forest. The romance of it all was so overwhelming, and I began to sing Eponine’s ballad of unrequited love out the window.
“I listened to this song every time it rained when I was on my trip, Errol.”
“What? Have the kids eaten breakfast?”
Turns out a rainy day isn’t so romantic with your family and nowhere to go.
It had let up by late afternoon, and we saw more of Freiburg beyond the old city gate. We found a bigger grocery but are still on the hunt for tortillas.
When Thom was a preschooler in Princeton, we’d take the bus from Butler into town to break up the afternoon slog. Baby Vinnie would fall asleep in the ergo, and we’d walk the mile and change back to Butler. Thom was an adorable little guy with a mop of curls and was constantly praised by strangers for walking so well. The formula was simple. Before we began, we would stop at CVS and buy jelly beans. I’d give him one at each corner until we got home. Eventually he didn’t need the bribes, and by kindergarten, he was a champion walker. The other three, however, well, there’s lots of room for improvement. Today I resorted to cookies at every corner on the trek back to our flat. We made it home; and, miraculously, they still had an appetite for weisswurst and sauerkraut for supper.