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Posts Tagged ‘Thoughts

If I never see your face again

If I never find the words

That sifts jewels out of sand

Then that’s just how it goes

New constellations will form

Like lovers do

Someday

Posted on: May 1, 2013

Someday every step we never took

will show where we stood

So Bright – Alfred Hall

My friend at home calls me on a Sunday morning, crying.

Twenty minutes later I am in her kitchen.

She is feeling emotional and calls her boyfriend who is abroad but he doesn’t want to talk until he gets back, a month from now. She needs to stick it out.

Meanwhile a friend in Oslo is going through a depression. She tells her boyfriend she needs him to just be there. But he doesn’t understand how.

On my way to her place I happen to pass by a flower stand and decide to run in and buy her a bouquet.

She realizes her boyfriend has never brought her flowers.

In Switzerland my friend is sad, missing her boyfriend who is left in South Africa. She wants to talk, but the internet in Africa is slow and the connection is cut. Everything remains unspoken.

Speaking to my friend in Stockholm her story tears up my heart. She met a man four years ago and they were crazy in love and planning her move down to his home country, when her dad got sick and she had to stay in Sweden to take care of him.

As her dad got worse, her boyfriend stopped answering her messages and just disappeared. Four years later, he gets in touch and asks her to come visit him. She gets on a plane across the world and they spend three weeks together. When she gets back home he disappears again.

And she is alone with all her thoughts and feelings.

These are the stories we share, us women.

All this silent suffering caused by men,

we pour out and help each other carry.

 

We don’t always have the answers or know the right thing to say.

But we stay.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

Buddha

I am home.

Well, as close to a home as I can be right now.

I’m renting a room in a flat with two other girls in central Oslo.

In the morning the Royal Palace bathes in a golden light, as I walk through Slottsparken  to work.

Work. The everyday life.

Yes. I’m ready.

Just walking these streets, breathing this air…it all reminds me….

Of the days when I first arrived this city

To the days just before I left.

The instant liking I took to this city lingers.

Yes. I am home.

During the journey

some things I have learnt

during the journey

it isn’t always

the names of the stations

that are significant

but rather

who will meet you on the platform

when you finally arrive.

Siv Arb, from Seamstresses of the night

I am at my dad’s house in Rättvik, Dalarna. The sun is glistening on the snow-covered fields outside.

I keep warm by the fireplace inside.

Five days ago, I arrived Stockholm looking like a Christmas tree with pink shoe laces, a pink and purple hoodie and a multi-coloured embroidered yoga mat-case.

Around me, everyone was wearing dark designer coats, leather boots and fur hats.

But my grandfathers wife, Ursula, generously gave me a cashmere wool coat as a belated birthday gift and soon I was one of the flock.

In Stockholm I did what I always do on my return-visits: run around the city catching up with friends and family until everything becomes a blur of subways stops and coffee shops.

This time my Norwegian friend and colleague Karoline was in town so we made the most of it, meeting up for lunches and after work drinks with my friends Micke and Pontus.

I also made time to see Bibi, Lito and Jesper. And my cousin Filippa and her newly born daughter, Otilia.

It was love at first sight.

People’s lives have changed while I’ve been away.

I guess mine has too.

Although, while I travel on these trains in Sweden, carrying my luggage from place to place…

It all feels very familiar…

The best journeys answer questions that in the beginning, you didn’t even think to ask.

from the Documentary 180 degrees South

From across the room, piles of stuff are starring at me screaming: Get Packing!

But I choose to lie here in bed with a purring cat by my side. Just a little longer.

I’ve gotten sick again which makes it the forth case of tonsillitis in two months, and yet a reason why I really need to go home.

In all honesty, my time in Cape Town has had its ups and downs. Not only have I been sick a lot, I also got mugged off my favourite camera and my USB stick with six months travel photos, stayed in four different apartments and went bankrupt long ago. But because it was Malin’s first time in Cape Town I kind of ignored that. Which should keep me in debt for about a year.

On the upside I got to laugh with my best friends, enjoy these spectacular sights once more and meet someone that made me realize what I want – and what I don’t want.

I am ready to go home and get back in charge.

Of my health, my goals and ambitions.

Create some stability. Grow up.

See, I must have done something right in my previous life because everybody is always looking after me!

Right now, I feel unworthy of it all.

My mom tells me that there are wool scarfs and mittens waiting for me when I get home and if that isn’t enough she will keep me warm with hugs. My dad asked if I wanted to go skiing in the Rättvik slopes next weekend, because he just ‘wanted to spend time with me’

In Stockholm, Rättvik, Hudiksvall and Oslo people are waiting for me. Bibi said I could stay with her in Stockholm. Both Malin and Maria has offered me a room in Oslo until I find my own.

‘Up to you babe. No stress. I love you’ were Maria’s exact words.

Here in Cape Town, both Lorena and Tess opened up their hearts and homes to me.

I don’t know how to thank you enough. But I am dedicated to try.

See you on the strong side.

Sometimes I just want to slap you hard!

He said with a smile before he leant down and kissed me.

I was complaining about being emotionally stressed out, showing my friend around the beaches and bars of Cape Town, feeling the pressure to show her a good time while battling my own need to just sit and write all day.

What a spoilt kid I am!

But this is what I do, whether I am on vacation or working 50 hours a week.

I try to put words to my experiences and my feelings.

I write, even when it doesn’t make sense.

Especially when it doesn’t make sense.

My life doesn’t make sense unless I write!

And the events of the last weeks are piling up like unfinished pages inside of me…

Me and Malin drinking cocktails in fancy bars. Hiking mountains. Watching sunsets.

Taking taxis. Sometimes in different directions. To the comfort of his arms.

The loss of an old friend. The lack of words. The unspoken.

I will have plenty of time to write once I’m home, which is in only a few days.

Until then. Please bear with me.

And my childish ways.


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