Covered in darkness I stood on the shores of the Elbe River, tears streaming down my face. On my left I saw the illuminated monuments of Dresden. On my right a group of people from the circus sat around a bonfire. I could here the fire crackling and the water lapping against the Earth. Before me the sky glowed in red, blue, golden and green: fireworks held in honor of Germany’s reunification.
I did not cry because of that. I cried because my dog Morla died in the hour when the German sky lit up. I watched the colors and celebrated my spunky Collie-Shepard. She was my companion for more than a decade. She was part of my life in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
With Morla’s death all strings that connected me to that old life in the West vanished.
I let go.
I walk now in the East.
When the fireworks were finished I returned to my guesthouse, lit every candle I could find and opened a bottle of American IPA. My hosts’ grey kitten cuddled and purred in my lap. He did not leave my side the entire night as if he knew. As I watched the flames I imagined Morla sitting next to my father on the porch somewhere in a place that looks like Yosemite Park. I imagine them peacefully observing the light as it moves over the mountains and valleys.
I feel grateful.
Return of the German 