It finally clicked. I LIVE here.

I moved to Berlin in June 2016.   But it was only this past weekend that I felt like I live here and not just enjoying an extended vacation.

For the first 6 months I was here I was living in a furnished rental, which was lovely but it wasn’t conducive to getting really comfortable.   Almost every day something “new” happened.  I was struggling with the basics of the language (even though English is very common) I was a long term tourist.  Even my job was a constant stream of “What? This can’t be right.”

Right before I went to Boston for the holidays I moved into my own apartment in a new, cosier neighborhood.  I got my own bed, my own dishes.  I didn’t have to worry about what the cats were on.  I changed teams at work to take on something new.

Last weekend I was sick. Really sick.  (It was just a cold but I am a huge baby)  On Saturday while I was laying around whimpering about my head cold, I went into my kitchen and made some tea and a snack.  And that was it.  I was home.  I lived here.   In Berlin.  And I was going to be here for awhile.   And it was great.  I felt something shift, something ease.   Most days I still learn something new, but I have a routine.  I can communicate in the most basic of ways about daily tasks.  I’m excited about having a long term plan at work.

My next thought was “Oh Scheisse, I need to work on my German more”

I’m home.