Meine Freundin Bube

"Clown in the Moon"

My tears are like the quiet drift
of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think that if I touched the earth
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

--Dylan Thomas

It's odd that when I think back on the green, mountainous, music-filled and hectic 11 days I spent in the land of Scots with my fam and some other folk, the simplest and most common things stand out to me as the best and give me joy when I think of them: 7am runs with my sister and dad through the dewy grass, the woods, along the hills; playing yuker and egyptian ratscrew each night before bed; hearing a Scottish group singing "Country Roads" down the hall and rushing to join them, thinking they were WV natives...even petty arguments because we are family, and getting over them because we love each other.

One day I met up with my German friend, Elisa (known affectionately as Bube), who I met in Mexico and traveled to Belize with (strange, beautiful world) for steamers and pizza. We saw each other at St. Giles Cathedral in the busiest part of town and ran into each others' arms, just like the movies. :) So we sat at an Italian Restaurant, chatting about the coming year (our last in undergrad), hopes, fears, people we love. I love her because she is so real and so forward about what's on her heart, so lively in spirit, while so gentle in action.

Here she is---holey sock and all, because she refuses to buy new shoes.


After watching some Jazz at a little jazz bar, Elisa left me at the bus stop. She handed me me an amazing, colorful drawing of hers--this poem and a note on the back. After she walked away, fading into the craziness of Edinburgh, I read the poem. In the middle of a sea of people, tears came to my eyes and I thought wow. It was exactly how I felt in that moment, nostalgia for the way friends have to part and everything changes and awe of this crazy, completely weird and captivating existence. But even more, my heart rejoiced for the gift of friendship--German and American, meeting in Mexico or Scotland or an African desert, it mattered not. We met and laughed and understood the spilling of our hearts.