A Crazy Little Thing Called Hope

Spring is feeling a little more… springier in Berlin.

The patios at bars and restaurants have re-opened. People are lining up outside recently opened stores cluthching negative Corona test results. Hipsters and not so hip old guys like me are drifting into the public parks.

The weather has been sunny, warm, and perfectly timed with Berlin's loosening restrictions.

Normally at this time of year, the people of this outdoor-drinking-loving city emerge gradually from their indoor-drinking hibernation. But, in case you haven’t heard, and you're not as sick of this phrase as I am, this is the "New Normal," so this spring’s awakening feels less like coming out of hibernation and more like awaking from a coma and sprinting madly outdoors.

And the whole city is outside. We’re walking around, sucking in the semi-fresh air and soaking up our Vitamin D the natural way. Some of us are walking about with beer in hand. Others are trying to keep their toddler out of the traffic. We're all quietly wondering, “What is this feeling?”

It’s hope.

And it’s probably too early to admit to feeling that feeling. At the time of this writing, Berlin's infection rate is dropping and 2,391,749 vaccinations have been given. But, with variants lurking around out there and a Merkel-less federal election this fall, we're all senstive to the tooth-grindingly awful fact that our fortunes can shift at any time.

So, we won’t bask too long in this sunny sensation of hope. Instead, we’ll crack open another cold beer and cautiously enjoy what we have right now: sun, a little more freedom, and a mad desire to just get out there.