Part 7: The Letters

*this is a continuation of my Germany Chronicles series, and you should check out the first 6 parts before reading below!

I finally found the folder I needed to finish this journey...

And that year, we would write...

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For the group of Texans that went to Germany that summer, our trip was scheduled from July 1st through the 12th.  From what I remember on the night we got back (it was the 13th because of time changes), all I did was sit on my bed with the Downhere cd on repeat in my room.  I was in a daze...and my emotions had not completely caught up with me.  About 2 days earlier, I had been with Matthias physically.  That was before I had to leave him.  And it was before our tragic flight home.  

This daze...it was for multiple reasons.  I couldn't seriously believe that the trip was already over.  Was it even real?  I'm sure I must have pinched myself several times.  I wasn't dreaming, right?

Over the next few weeks, several things would be a comfort to me as I tried to get back to my "normal" life.  Whatever that was.  

First of all, my pictures.  After taking the disposable cameras to Walgreens to be developed and actually having to go back to pick the prints up, these objects proved that what happened was, in fact, real.  Second, my music.  Three cds remind me of my journey: Josh Groban's Closer, Warren Barfield's self-titled album, and Downhere's self-titled album.  Thirdly, my stomach could not seem to forget Matthias' touch.  This last one might be silly.  But I was 16...and seriously inexperienced with any kind of contact with the opposite gender.  So, my mind wouldn't really let go of this one.  Fourthly (but it's really first), I had recieved an email on the 10th of July - 2 days before I had even gotten back - from Matthias.  *heart, be still*

I no longer have a digital copy of this first email...but I did print off a copy the night I received it.

It is on this copy I have made my own notes to point out the highlights of what he wrote.  Some of these things went like this:

"I tried so hard to divert myself, but I just can't stop thinking of you..."

"My hands are still shaking as I write this and I think I never felt like this before.  What did you do to me?"  (I probably giggled when I first read that one.)

"I really wished we would have had more time together alone." (he added the bold)

"When you asked me what I wanted from the states, do you know what came to my mind first?  You.  I just didn't dare tell you that then."  (At one point during the trip, I strategically asked him what he might want from the states...and his hesitation was enough to answer the question until I saw this email...)

See?  Now maybe it might make more sense as to why I printed it out...reading it once was simply not enough.

Over the next few months, we wrote back and forth using email and snail mail.  The average time for a real piece of mail to get from one address to the other was about 9 days.  

We wrote of "I miss you" and "I miss you too".  We wrote of vacations.  We spent time talking about what we could officially define our relationship as.  He wrote a lot about how he doesn't write a lot, but that didn't mean he doesn't care.  He just can't think of what to say.  

By August, I was sure I was in love.  Head-over-heals-I'll-move-to-Germany-for-you love.

I had to be careful of who I expressed this fact to.  And to be honest, I can't think of a single person I actually told.  I was afraid people would tell me I was crazy.  I didn't want to hear the things I had heard up until that point: "guard your heart", "it's just not logical", "the age difference is too much", "he lives too far away".

Those conversations went against everything I felt.  Okay, maybe the whole situation wasn't logical.  But really, how can I just tell my heart to stop beating?  It wasn't going to change anything.  

Regardless of how my heart felt, I was quite reserved in my emails and letters.  I spoke with him about how we needed to slow things down - I'm only 16!  And I still 2 more years of high school.  This can't be good to go so fast when we are so far away.  Writing to each other in the way that we had been was quite dangerous.

"I miss you so bad and I feel like you were gone for a year already" (I had been gone a total of 20 days)

"...but you know you can take this as another proof of your beauty and kindness..."

"I'm really missing you badly and praying for you and that God may lead our ways together if it's his will..."

"I can't wait to see you again..."

A few months into it, he mentioned me coming to visit over Christmas and New Year's.  Whoa.  If I had been 23, there would maybe be no question if I could go.  But I was 16, and was sure my parents would deny me the opportunity.  I mentioned it in passing...but I don't think I was actually taken seriously by them.

November approached...our shared birthday month.  I can't remember what I sent him as a present.  But I think I was excited about it because he definitely wrote about how he was excited to receive it...because I had talked about it so much.  

My birthday was about 20 days after his, and I honestly didn't expect anything.  I would have been happy with just a letter telling me happy birthday.  

As it turns out, I did get a letter...

And a piece of his past.

This shows his old drum (the one I now possess) and his new one.

It did indeed arrive broken.  But I don't know how to play the drums, and this gift was better than anything else he could have given me.  It still sits in my room and I will never get rid of it.  When I actually grow up and officially move out of my parent's house, then I will take it with me.  

With his gift, he also sent pictures with great explanations on the backs.

...sorry for the blur...

On my actual birthday, after arriving home from swim practice, the phone rings...one of my parents answers the phone (like usual) and then subsequently calls out my name for me to get it.  At this point, I can't think of any person who could be calling me.

I answer. "Hello?"

"Hello, Erin..." 

My heart starts pounding.  It can't be.  No way.  I'm dreaming.  I can't stand up anymore.  Where 's the chair...oh, there it is.  Sit.  BREATHE.  

"Hi...I can't believe it's you..."

He called. On my 17th birthday.  To wish me a happy birthday.  And almost gave me a heart attack in the process.  

It was so fabulous to hear his voice again - the smooth richness of it, his accent - and it seriously felt right.

I don't remember the conversation from that night.  But I remember hanging up feeling as if I was never going to fall asleep again.  

And that night, once I fell asleep, I probably most definitely dreamt of him and his voice.