Looking Back, Final

In my last part of looking back, today ... what do I do with the loss and the new things gained?

I don't have a profound answer for that!  I do know that as I type, I sit in a cafe.
 It's the first day that I have been able to wear my spring shoes.  Now, I have seasonal shoes ... and not very many of them.  They are chosen for comfort.  They are more expensive as they are an investment.  They are part of my daily uniform and a necessary part of my life.  I use them because I walk everywhere.  

I like my little cafe.  Most of the Barista's know me ... and know that I will always order the same coffee.  Some of the guests I've come to recognize as "regulars".  We share knowing smiles, but they seldom talk to me.  That's OK.  I've learned to sip my coffee, spend a good couple of hours just being.  I've learned to "tune out" the noise around me and don't recognize that now it is familiar and a welcome sound to my ears that no longer hurts.  I've learned not to feel as if I need to give money to every homeless person that walks through the cafe begging.  I've learned to chat quietly if I meet a friend, because no one is loud ... unless you are an American tourist.  

I've learned that I don't need to tip ... more than about 20 cents for my coffee.  They don't expect it nor do they don't frown that I've sat there for over 2 hours.  It's normal ... for them ... for me.  I've learned that when I leave, despite not knowing the name of a waiter or Barista, they will always say goodbye when I leave.  

I've learned that when I leave my cafe, I better use the toilet (and that's another word I've learned ... it's not crude to say toilet.  That's what it is.  That's what we call it.) because the chance of finding a public toilet is slim and/or next to impossible.  If I do happen to stumble on a porcelain throne, I gotta pay.  I prefer to pee for free.

I've learned that as I make my way back home, people will stand in my personal space on the UBahn (subway) and not look me in the eye or smile.  I don't take it personal ... anymore.  I try to keep my friendly face on at all times .. desperately trying to stand out among the neutral faces ... as a witness that my life counts for something.  Sometimes I forget ... and I stare into grey space and don't smile, just like my countrymen.

I've learned to carry my own grocery bag as I run into the market to pick up something for tonight's dinner.  The vegetables are healthy and cheap.  The meat has no hormones injected into it and is expensive.  Frozen pizza is often a reliable stand by and doesn't taste like cardboard.  I just know not to buy the tuna pizza ... or the ham and corn one.

Life is normal.  I pass people who never say hello to me.  They are not being rude.  It's just their culture.  I pass people who practice every kind of esoteric, humanistic, post-modern thinking technique.  I pass Orthodox Jews with curls in their hair and wear long black trench coats.  Sometimes I pass a nun or two.  Often I see Muslims.  The vast majority of my community smokes.  They are practical.  Obey rules.  Ride their bikes in the designated bike lines.  Dress their babies way too warm.  The drink coffee and eat cake at 3:00 p.m.  Older women have strange colored hair.  

Overall, what began as a wild pattern of new discoveries is ... normal.  It's my life.  I am better for everything I've lost and all that I've gained.