The Call to Return

My call to this place occurred long before today, even before I returned to my hometown for a reunion marking four decades since my schooling began. Perhaps the roots of these connections trace back even further, before kindergarten or nursery. It’s intriguing how the ties of our lives are woven together, stitch by stitch.

The tall radio mast stands against the morning sky, a permanent fixture of my childhood. For over forty years, it has been a landmark, much like the memories tied to this very mountain. I recall childhood dreams of walking to this summit, just as my grandmother did before my mother was even born. In those dreams, the radio mast didn’t exist; a shorter, round tower marked the spot where I learned to appreciate this landscape.

During a school trip, we stayed at a hostel near the inn, where we learned survival skills in the woods, such as using mossy tree trunks to find our bearings. On our final night, we celebrated with a dance to “Ella, elle l’a” by France Gall before returning to our everyday lives.

In winter, we would come here to slide down the ski hill. I remember trying skiing once and in summer, we’d hike that steep hill, a shortcut to the top.

My mother often joined us on these hikes, perhaps because her mother’s secrets lingered in the inn and its surroundings. It was here that my grandmother nurtured my mother, keeping the identity of her father a mystery.

I also remember a special winter day when I hiked up with a boy, the snow glistening under the sun. We towed a sledge and enjoyed ‘Heiße Liebe’—vanilla ice cream topped with hot raspberries at the inn. After sunset, we slid down the hill, laughing as we tumbled into the snow beneath a starry sky, sharing a kiss.

A few years back, I trekked the renowned Rennsteig trail, covering 167 or 168 kilometers. On the second day, I reached this familiar spot. Yet, passing by felt less exhilarating than making this hilltop my intended destination, as it had always been.

For many, Inselsberg is merely a mountain visible from afar, but for me, it symbolizes my childhood home in the Thuringian Forest.

“I need to see my Inselsberg,” my mother often says. While it’s not solely hers, it’s where her roots were established. It’s the land where she began her journey before she fully understood her identity as a person—a child, a girl, a woman, a mother, and a grandmother.

A Reminder of Growth

What significance does this place hold for me? As I ponder this, I realize it serves as a reminder of how we evolve from being unaware of life’s complexities to discovering our core. It encourages me to trust that despite the twists and turns I’ve taken and the calls I've responded to, my life is grounded in strong roots and a sturdy trunk.

I belong to a place that will endure even when I am no longer here. Even in my absence, it will always signify where I come from. Just like my classmates from first grade, we’ve all matured and spread our wings. Though our lives have diverged, we still share a bond. Our paths may have led us through different terrains, with some deepening their connections while others have ventured far.

We belong, even after choosing different routes from our origins. All we need to do is retrace our steps, and we will rediscover ourselves and appreciate how far we’ve traveled.

Thank you for reading.

Sandy Seeber-Quayle writes on life, self-discovery, introspection, management, and human behavior, focusing on meaningful ways to navigate life’s challenges.