A dawn to remember

Sitting on the porch wrapped tightly in a feather duvet, the cold November winds start to blow as if announcing the coming of day. Around this seemingly forgotten German town, a train is struggling past, dragging in the morning as the wind urges it on from behind.

Children will soon be out casting their handmade kites in the rush of wind, while parents take a pilgrimage to the nearest bäckerei for fresh bread. I swallow down the last image of absolute serenity as the last drops of hot chocolate singe down my throat and I prepare to do the same.
Walking beside me is the railway tracking to my left, and field on my right. I try to consume every smell, every breath of icy air flooding my nostrils. Tomorrow I go to Berlin, to be swallowed up by curio shop hoarding tourists who seem unaware of the beauty beyond the cashier. Now is the time to preserve the memory of this brown and gray town.
Around the next bend, a patchwork quilt unfolds before me. Squares of soft green fields stitched to zest-dyed poppies, with a a hedge of age-old trees sewn to a patch of water. Even the poppies bow down with the wind as a salute to the bleached morning.
Reaching my destination, I break open the steaming brötchen. Crumbs fly as the crisp shell is cracked open, revealing its steaming bosom. A lump of butter turns into a river of yellow cream on impact. Biting into the soft flesh, I think of a last kiss to a lover. The baker, quite concerned, asks, “Ist alles gut Kind?” (Is everything okay child?). “Ja!” I reply as the final drop of butter slides past my lips.
On the journey back past the fields of golden flowers and emerald grasslands, the baker’s question clings to my thoughts. Yes, I am indeed “okay”. However, I am not a “child” anymore. On my journey, I have seen all the sights, have bought the postcards. Yet, this clear morning is what will tease my memory for ages to come. I smile and take a picture of the railway tracking miles towards the distance. I realise I have grown up.