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AmsterdamI’ve walked the road from my apartment door to catch a train to Schiphol airport more times than I should count in the past three years.

This morning, as I walked it, the sun was rising over the buildings in vivid pinks and purples, and the wind was biting through my jacket. I am used enough now to the cold that I don’t pull out gloves to protect my hands from the 45 degree weather.

It was just a few minutes before 7am and I relished the fact that none of the cafes on the main street near my home were open yet, the sidewalks were quiet and the world belonged to me.

So unlike an American main street at 7am.

And I couldn’t help but remember some of the other times that I have walked down this street before…

Times filled with excitement as I was traveling somewhere new.

Times filled with anticipation as I headed to meet a friend or loved one arriving for a visit.

Times filled with anxiety about what waits for me on the other side of the flight or across the ocean.

Times filled with serenity as I held the hand of a new love walking me to the station.

Times filled with tears as I traveled back to the US to my mother’s funeral.

Times filled with so many experiences and emotions.

This route has become special.

SchipholSome people have their favorite path to jog, their favorite drive to take, their favorite hike to climb. My favorite road is this route to Schiphol.

This will be the last time I pull my apartment door shut to walk this road and travel this route to Schiphol as an Amsterdam resident.

I know for sure I will be back. I am too rooted here emotionally not to return. But next time, I’ll come to Amsterdam for a visit, to see the Dads Squared, to eat some stroopwafels, drink a beer.

I’ll visit old haunts and I’ll see friends.

But it won’t be MY road anymore.

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