So thanks to Xenia/Jessica/Italian girl, I realize that we only have four more months left in Norway. I can’t begin to relate how I’m feeling right now: overwhelmed and empty at the same time. It’s a difficult feeling–knowing that the end is coming, and that this year will never happen again.
The fact that I’m used to life here, that nothing’s out of the ordinary anymore, only makes it that much harder to leave–because I’m not just leaving Hvitveisstien, I’m leaving home; and I’m not just leaving a “host” family, I’m leaving Mamma, Pappa, Joakim and Marie. I’m so amazed at how lucky I was to be placed in this household–so welcoming, endearing, and fun. And I’m so amazed at how natural it feels, and how attached I’ve become.
I remember all those evenings coming home after a night or a weekend away. I remember that familiar, cozy feeling as I’m walking up Apenesbakken, the house looming into view. And above Pappa’s Gecom company car, I can see the warm orange glow of the living room through the window. I love seeing that orange glow; it means somebody’s there…and awake. I love opening the door, taking off my shoes and enjoying the smell of home. And I love hearing the hi’s and hallo’s from whoever’s sitting above. I love going to my room to find Zaiko kosing on my bed (even though he sheds EVERYWHERE), and going up the stairs all the while wondering what we’re having for dinner that night, and seeing them and telling them how my day or weekend went, and hearing theirs. I love that feeling of coming home; it feels so right.
I love our hytte. Up in the mountains where there’s nothing there but forests and wilderness. I love picking mushrooms even though the trees make me dizzy. I love kayaking, ice-bathing, and grilling sausages by the nearby lake. I love the lack of technology and the feeling of being immersed in nature. I love sitting outside at night, with a warm fire, gazing up at the starry night sky, listening to Eva Cassidy or Josh Groban while sipping a cup of glugg. I love getting into that bed at night–I have never slept so well as I do when I sleep in that bed, no exaggeration. I love the feeling of not having a care in a world when I’m up there.
And I love Pappa’s jokes, especially the terrible ones; I love how he’s always in a good mood. I love Mamma’s patience, and the special way she explains things; I LOVE her cooking–I swear I have been culinarily spoiled rotten this year; I even like her occasional reminders on taking shorter showers. I love the differences between me and Joakim; he’s opened my eyes to so much, whether he knows it or not; I love his determination and fierceness. I love sitting on the couch with Marie every night: Top Model Mondays, CSI: Miami Tuesdays, CSI: NY Wednesdays, Bones Thursdays, and all the other miscellaneous TV shows that she watches; I love her fjortis, her sharp sarcastic sense of humor, her infatuation with make-up. And I’m leaving all of this behind. È follia!
Smørbrød with salami, the special cheeses Mamma would buy from time to time, the bottle of maple syrup on the counter that I would occasionally over-abuse à cause de Tilly, PIZZAKVELD, visits from Bestemor, Firkløver chocolate after volleyball practice (which I don’t go to anymore on account of laziness/snow), the geniusness of saft, Zaiko sleeping on my bed.
And my friends! Midnight walks with Luiza when she could still walk. Going to Tønsberg with Xenia to get my ear pierced and finding out how strange she really is…Learning how to break on slalom skis from Balazs and our desires to visit Prague–and sing Lips all night long. Listening to Francesco talk about music, and philosophy, and life. Watching a cup of tea seep with Tilly and Marie and talking about whatever random thing is running through our minds. Going up to Drammen to make and eat authentic and GOOD Chinese food with Yanzi and reminescing over our–or rather, my–childhood in China. Yo sé que nada es para siempre, but couldn’t it last a little bit longer?
