The Berlin sun is shining in all its golden glory. Yesterday, after a delish breakfast, I spent the entire afternoon walking through the streets and parks of Berlin with a friend. The weather has finally hit the sweet spot. Chilly and warm at the same time. The leaves are an unbelievable green. Gentle flowers are sprouting everywhere. Only a long winter can make you realise how much you love summer. 

I couldn’t help but notice the metaphor. Slipping into depression can feel like a dark, lonely, winter. Like being underwater. But when you emerge out and breathe in those big mouthfuls of air, you never forget the sweetness of it. You remember how much you actually like living. You had just forgotten what the sun feels like. 

Yesterday also marked our second anniversary in Berlin. Germany is not always an easy place to be in. The language is hard, people aren’t always the warmest, and for god’s sake, can everyone please start using email? But it’s also beautiful, magical, and has a vibe that’s hard to explain. Actually, that may be especially true for Berlin. 

I drew this analogy with a friend the other day. If German cities are like rooms in a house, Munich would be the spotless, orderly, white, sterile room with the bed neatly made, Frankfurt would be the functional one, with loads of wardrobe space and devices beeping away. Berlin would be the colourful, messy one with books strewn about, crazy art on the walls, postcards and vinyls on the desk. A bit rough around the edges, but with character. Berlin is the interesting, messy room that we landed in, and honestly, I’m not complaining. 

Our visit to India this time was achingly beautiful. We celebrated Holi together, made gujiyas and shared easy conversations over hot plates of food. I met my nephew and niece again, and I can’t believe how effortlessly I love them. I sometimes wonder if it’s because I’m related to them, because I held them as babies, or because they’re so gosh darn cute. Probably a combination. 

I hadn’t seen my nephew in a year, so reconnecting with him felt special. We developed a special kinship where almost every day I read out a story to him, and then we took an afternoon nap. He came to my room to say goodbye to me before going to school, and then to say hi when he came back. In the evenings we went out for a walk or just played together. He clung on to me, giving me multiple hugs throughout the day, and calling out for me when I wasn’t home. Holding him made me so emotional for some reason.

There were also a few days when I got to spend time alone with my parents. We all settled into a rhythm and I felt like I was in college again. I realised I had deeply wanted that: to sit with them, with no plan, no agenda. Just have chai, ask them random questions and just talk. 

It hurts to see your parents ageing, and developing health issues. Saying goodbye this time was the hardest it has been in years. I let myself break down in the flight. I secretly got one of my nephew’s little toys in my pocket. A little egg that he calls ‘Umty dumty’. It’s silly, I know. Maybe I’m just a big bag of mush. I missed them terribly, and couldn’t get over it for several days. My nephew kept asking for me after I had left, and slept in the same bed with my doll. I don’t think he understands the concept of leaving yet. 

While I was extremely happy to be back to Berlin, a city that feels like ours, I still felt a bit forlorn. We enjoyed the peace and quiet of our home, but also had trouble adjusting back to life here. 

It’s funny how you can feel multiple polarising emotions at the same time. It’s the beauty of being human, right? Oh well. The point of life is to let all emotions happen to you: the good, the bad, the frightening. Fear is good too. It means you have a lot you don’t want to lose. 

So, go for it. Storm! Storm inside me, emotions! I accept all of you. 

For now, I’ll enjoy the sun, the spring, the softness of my bed and remind myself of everything I have. Life is kind.