There is a German word, liebgewinnen—to grow fond of something over time. It’s a quiet, unhurried process, and it’s exactly how I’ve begun to feel about the mornings here.
There was a time when breakfast meant something warm, savory, and familiar. Bakeries were just places I passed by—background noise in my morning routine. But slowly, I started noticing the glass shelves, the smell of butter, and the quiet rhythm of the neighborhood waking up.
One particular chocolate muffin in a window stayed with me. Since I prefer my bakes to be eggless, I took the idea of it home. I experimented until I found the secret: mixing the cocoa powder with hot water first. I use German Raffinade sugar; it is much finer than what I grew up with in India. Eventually, I arrived at a "house recipe"—something I hope my daughter might one day associate with home.
The Guernsey Back Home
While I wait for my muffins to rise, I’ve been living inside the pages of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It is an epistolary novel, and I am savoring it slowly because I don't want it to end.
I love Juliet’s wit—incidental and honest, never sarcastic. There is such strength in her independence. I find comfort in Isola’s humor, the collective warmth of raising Kit, and Elizabeth—whose heart was so big it was almost a burden. As Remy said, it would have been nice for her if she didn't have such a heart.
This "kind company" makes my mind drift back to the friends I made during my Master’s at EFL-U Hyderabad. They are my "Guernsey" back home. They provide a steady comfort that reaches me even across this distance. In a world that can often feel guarded, they remain wide open.
I think I’ll take my time with the last few chapters. Some things are better when you don't rush the ending.