282

Happy monthly anniversary, my dear. We are approaching the end of the year having survived an international move, a new role, and adjusted to life in a massive city again. Better food and strangely cheaper groceries. Harder to find an apartment. A greater hustle after being locked down in Copenhagen awaiting our visas. But we are here now, about to celebrate Christmas with a surprise last-minute visit from my folks. We won't be alone for the holidays. We will have some kind of normal Christmas again, and now without having to endure a flight across an ocean. We will be in our home.

 281

Winter as come and we are making our Berlin home as cozy as possible. It's the darkness of Copenhagen all over again, but with more life and culture. Definitely better food and a better office. 

The worst of it is, we will again be away from family for the holidays and our family is smaller due to the loss of Seamus, poor sweet bear. It'll just be us and Liam in a quiet Berlin apartment. I think this time it's worse...we couldn't go to America for the holidays and see our families because of COVID. Now, it's just visa timing. One was an act of god. This is a bureaucratic hurdle. Man made, something you feel like you can control, and when you can't it's your fault.

So, again, a small Thanksgiving and then moving on to Christmas, with gifts ordered and delivered remotely, thousands of miles away and with the best intentions. 

 280

Happy monthly anniversary, my love. It is another month in Berlin, and we are finding the ground beneath our feet. We are cutting through the bureaucratic obstacles, building our residency, getting the odds and ends to make our place at home. We are finding our restaurants, our grocery stores, our patterns, our rituals to make this city of millions feel like its ours. We are settling in, thinking of this place as our home, yet mourning the notion that we will not be able to go to America for the holidays...again. It hurts a little more since this time it's due to some thing so mundane as a paperwork and not as harrowing as a dangerous virus. 

This is our home for now. The strange and the ordinary. But sometimes, more than Copenhagen and Amsterdam, I feel the distance.

 279

Nine days since we arrived in Berlin. It's like we always lived here. At least now the government recognizes that we're here. One more step, but it opens up two more thanks to the German bureaucracy. 

But we are here and we are safe, in our new apartment that looks out over the Berlin Wall, that old relic of our childhoods that we've seen on television be chiseled apart in 1989. Now the city is a mishmash of cultures and memories, the immigrants and the old world clashing in graffiti, monuments, Doner stands, elegant trams gliding along the street, and a dozen accents and languages flowing in the Mitte district at the center of the city. 

We are here, new immigrants in a rental van from Copenhagen. We are veterans in the EU move now, almost three years on the continent. Three years ago we were tearing down our American lives to come here, not sure how things would go. We have made it, despite the turbulence of bad bosses and pandemics. 

And I love you. Thank you for coming with me. Happy monthly anniversary. 

 278

A holding pattern on our monthly anniversary as we wait in our growing-bare apartment. Soon, but still unknown when, I’ll get my visa and we can go to Germany. Thank you for being reassuring as we sit in the uncertainty. I know we have time to get from here to there before my new start date. It will all work out. 

I love you. Happy monthly anniversary. 

 277

Another month, a waning month, in Denmark. We wait for the paperwork to clear. We have a destination waiting for us in Germany. We are paring down. We are preparing, pruning, packing, plodding. We want to go; we have to wait. At least we wait in peace, in quiet, and in Scandinavian sunshine. There are worse fates. 

For now, we have a quiet monthly anniversary in the Danish sun. I hope you are happy. I hope you are enjoying your life with me. I love you.

 276

23 years. Happy anniversary, my love. For today, we agreed no gifts. Nothing we would have to drag with us when we leave for Germany. So, we visit places we always wanted to go to but never had the time before, thanks to COVID. 

But now we have our passports and an apartment to arrive at. Now we have to disengage ourselves from here. It'll be like relocating to Amsterdam all over again, into the mouth of a major European city and a plague we didn't see coming. Everything should be smoother this time.

Thank you for all your love and kindness in these past months. It hasn't been easy, but the rest is paperwork and credit card usage. Today, we enjoy our victories. 

275

We await the bureaucracy to click into place so we can relocate to another country. We await the signal to start our future. We hurry up and wait. At least we can do it together. At least we know things are in motion. This is merely a delay. If all goes well this is our second-to-last monthly anniversary here before we say goodbye to Denmark and start another adventure together.

 274

Happy monthly anniversary, my love.

So much happening as we recover from spring sickness. We returned from Iceland on a birthday trip and now we look forward to the bureaucratic and logistical leaps into our next big thing. Another country, another job, another new city. I know we can do this. We have done it before. Now is just the paperwork. 

A calm before the storm.

 273

Happy monthly anniversary, my love. We finally made it through the darkness of winter and we are on the edge of a big change. I can feel something about to break job-wise, and with it likely relocation. Another adventure. Another transition. Thank you for being there through all this. I love you and I hope you are happy.

272

To my love, a happy monthly anniversary. I do not deserve you. I love and appreciate your kindness. Thank you for putting up with my ups and downs. Thank you for being open to another adventure. I wish I was more sedate like you. I wish I was better. I try, inspired. I hope you know. I hope you see it. 

I love you. To another month together. 

 271

Happy monthly anniversary to you, my wife. I know this is not how we wanted to have it, but we will get past this. The game industry is fickle and volatile. I will find a new job. Thank you for being supportive and kind. We will get past this and I hope we figure out a way to stay in Europe. It feels safer here, quieter. I think we enjoy not having to need a car. I think we like the mix of the tapestry of history mixed with the neon and steel of now. I can hear myself think here. I've come far here. And I like to think I've gotten stronger and better for both of us.