The Last Huggie. And so it beings...

So today I put the last Huggie diaper on my youngest son, Zak. As I fastened the diaper, I actually got misty-eyed. It was the last diaper we shiped from home. The last snipet of our life in the States that was familiar, easy, and uncomplicated. And it wasn't just the diaper, of course. It made me question our life here in Berlin, the struggle, the price of it all. After all, we went from living two miles from my parents, a half hour's drive from my brother and sister-in-law and their precious daughter, Addie, to this unfamiliar place where neither my husband nor I speak the language or know the culture. We left a cozy home, with neighbors I had known since I was a child. Yes, we are still a world away from my husband's side of the family, but now we're somewhere in between, on a sort of island with no connections, no friendly faces, no familiar.
But it's getting better. As the last Huggie sunk into the depths of the Diaper Geenie, I realized we are making a transition--cutting the proverbial cord from our old life and diving into what lies ahead here. I'll be buying diapers from the local drug store like everyone else here. I'll be making new friends and the unfamiliar will become the familiar. And what happens then? Does this become home? Perhaps. What roots will we establish here? Will I become misty-eyed when I toss the last of the "DM" drug store Berlin diapers when we move next time? I hope so.