Au revoir, Strasbourg

I left in the morning, on an empty train, in the lazy sun. The world was just beginning to stir, and I was still drowsy from lack of sleep. Yet I knew this would be the last time I would be leaving the station at Strasbourg for a long time to come.

Yesterday, I saw online that my long awaited application for studies coming September has been approved. This means, there is a very high probablity of me packing my bags and moving to Canada very soon. As soon as I read that news, I was delighted, as it signals a new start and break from the mundane life here in Europe. But at the same time, it also means that I will be gone an indefinite time, if not never to return to here again.

I kissed my godson goodbye, unsure when I would see him again. And yesterday, as I walked through the narrow streets of Strasbourg, I was feeling a little melancholy. I realised I have been somewhat connected to the city in a special way, mostly by my friend and her child. In the past two years, I have been there and back no less than six times, for a birth, for Christimases, for birthdays. When Aslan was still a growing foetus, I was there. When Aslan was born, I went there. And now, almost two years old, happy and becoming more and more an individual, I was there. But I wonder whether I will be able to be a bigger part of his life, as he grows older.

Au revoir, Strasbourg. If I remember correctly there was a novel or movie with the exact same title. It was about the end of French control over this beautiful city, after the successful conquest of the Germans in the Franco-Prussian War in 1870. "Au revoir" ("till meeting again"), because on a fateful day, history in the city would change forever, and German would become the overruling language and culture of a city that has for centuries been French (or at least, Alsatian). It was not known to the people when again they would see their old and inherent culture and country back again.

Au revoir, Strasbourg. My parting from Strasbourg was not as dramatic or sentimental. But a part of me will miss the city... miss the walks on the banks of the Ill with my godson's hand in mine, miss the night walks under the yellow lighting on cobblestone streets, miss the majestic buildings that adorn the old parts of the city, miss the large expanses of greenery in the parks and forests nearby. Mostly, I will miss my friend, and my godson, whom I have grown attached to after these two years of visiting them, and taking care of them, whenever I could.

When will we meet again?