A tidy little Hungarian breakfast—more pepperoni, peppers, and cucumbers—in the quiet dining room with an attentive staff is a lovely way to end five weeks in Europe. No sign of Eva. I sit and stare at the stuffed hawk overhead, glaring at me, while CNN blabbers softly in the background.
The taxi arrives at the appointed hour, and once again, I find myself in an airport.
It’s always a little bittersweet to leave Europe. I love it here, and I love to go home.
The uneventful plane ride gave me room to think about the last five weeks, and start to distill down all that happened. In a few short hours, someone will pick me up at the airport and ask, “So! How was it?!” And that will be an ongoing litany for many weeks, from many people. What do I answer?
It took a full month to distill down the story I keep retelling—Tug & Ruckle. There are many others, of course, and images resurface, a Facebook post comes in, or someone asks for a photo, and I linger over the file, smiling, enjoying the hunt.
Time to close this chapter. After all, it’s time to get back to the boatyard…