Back and forth

A week ago, we got off the train from Germany.

Within nanoseconds, not only was I back on Dutch soil, but I also immediately started thinking about tomorrow. My job, the babysitter, the sandwiches I’m going to make. I checked Teletext to see if anything interesting had happened while we were away (nope) and reset my brain to my old, familiar surroundings.

But that other world, too—the one I’d just come from—is very ordinary and familiar. When I’m there, the Netherlands feels miles away. And I don’t think for a moment about our house, our neighbors, or the TV shows we might be missing.

So how is it that we’ve already forgotten Berlin within minutes of getting back?

It’s a remarkable switch that we make effortlessly between the two countries. Only during major soccer matches are both nations united in my mind—one gets attention on Tuesday, and the other on Wednesday.

My son Max is now also starting to make some distinction between his two identities. When he sees red, white, and blue, he shouts, “The Netherlands!” And he now understands very well that Grandma in Berlin can really only understand Mom’s language. So he says, “Look…,” thinks for a moment, and then repeats, “Guck, Grandma!”

Yesterday we challenged him and asked, “What country do we live in?”

“At home,” Max replied.