Movement.

It's an overcast morning in Bonn, Germany. The sky is mirrored on the soft, rustling surface of the Rhine, with only the dark smudges of trees breaking the glossy grey. I can hear a child calling out in German. Church bells answer his call and ripple through the small, quiet city. Birds and bells dominate my sonic environment and I feel quite far away from London's busy streets. 

I don't know where I will be living in six months.

That thought has infiltrated all others for weeks at a time. It has highjacked my moments of peace and contentment, bringing with it a trail of questions about visas, jobs, apartments, and applications.

I don't know where I will be living in six months. 

As I look across the river now, this thought, which had so riddled me with worry just weeks before,  doesn't seem so worrisome now. 

As much as I love London, I could see myself spending more mornings looking out across the Rhine. I could also see myself spending more days reading at cafes in Amsterdam, watching bicycles pass and hearing intermittent conversations in Dutch.

There are many places where I could see myself spending more of my days. And that, perhaps, is the beauty of life's plasticity. I'm never stuck... a privilege I don't always take the time to acknowledge. 

While I sit, worrying about where I'll end up and counting my alternative options, there are many with no options at all.

What brought me to Bonn and Amsterdam to begin with was a reunion of students who'd traveled to Kosovo, a country I knew absolutely nothing about. Roxy and Ivan had gone there a few years back with the university they attended in Amsterdam. Having had already wanted to visit Roxy's home in Bonn, and having heard so much from both Ivan and Roxy about their love for the canal entrenched city of Amsterdam, now seemed as good a time as any to tag along and visit both.

I anticipating learning about Germany and the Netherlands, but I didn't anticipate learning about Kosovo. After meeting a few of their friends from the trip and hearing various conversations about the country, however, I started to get a glimpse at the country's situation, and, in turn, at my own privilege.  

The freedom of movement I experience and rarely acknowledge, is denied to many in the world. My life and its various travels and freedoms stands in stark contrast to those living Kosovo. Many in this country are denied the right to move. 

At a cafe over breakfast, I listened as Roxy and Zoe  talked about a friend of their's living in Kosovo. They always felt a bit guilty discussing their travels and lives, knowing their friend didn't have the opportunity to travel and live the way she wished she could. She was in her 30's, hating her job, and had no option of leaving. Even acquiring a visa to travel and get away for awhile was near to impossible. There was a suspicion that this was in part due to her status as an unmarried woman. The Embassy may fear that she would try to marry during her time abroad in an attempt to leave the country.

The fear of citizens leaving Kosovo and not returning seemed to guide much of the legal action that left harsh restrictions on visas and travel. 

While I sit, worrying about where I'll end up and counting my alternative options, there are many with no options at all.

This past week has provided some much needed perspective. While I'm still not sure exactly where I'll end up, I'm grateful that I always have options and that I've been privileged enough to take advantage of my own right to move so often in my life.

​I've felt the hand of incredible cultures and places touch me, and though I've welcomed these greetings, part of me has also taken for granted the freedom I've had in experiencing these interactions.

Whether I end up in London, Germany, Amsterdam, or back in the States, at least I can always be thankful for the movements in life that have brought me here.

I don't know where I will be living in six months, but I always have the freedom to move. And that's enough of a comfort for now, despite the seeming instability of not knowing.

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