Here is us bird watching.
Here is our back yard.
A picture can’t communicate how competitive this game of uno was. I won. (actually I don’t remember if I won or not, probably not.)
Like always. I keep thinking that I won’t make it home for Christmas, but this year – again – it just happened to work with my travel plans. Nice, but at some point I also want to be dramatically missed. Sweetly told somewhere that ‘is it not difficult being without your family?’ but also surrounded by good enough people that it isn’t, not really. Maybe next year.
(But to clarify, it is amazing being home. I have an amazingly amazing family. Here we are on a frozen lake my grandma later told us not to walk on.)
And now, writing this, it’s the dark evening leading up to the new year. My head is pounding and I want to sleep sort of, but I think I’ll read some poetry and stay awake the way you’re supposed to. I’ll wait a bit longer. That’s been the theme of my whole year.
(Does it sound like I’m not happy? I’m happy. Just on my period, ya know girls. I’m good.)
Went cross country skiing today. Then I drank hot chocolate and ate waffles and got really emotional about this place I’ve been visiting for as long as I can remember.
(The thing about skiing is that it’s in my blood and bones, it’s what my dad and grandpa and great grandma did, it’s old and Swedish and the forests are dark and the views beautiful. It’s freedom and being out of breath and so much pressure. It’s me as a little girl. And it’s weird to think about the people working here, the guy preparing the tracks outside the window right now, or anyone else who’s been here. Weird that this place could mean even more to any of them.)
The 2nd of January:
The 3rd of January:
Honestly, what’s going on? This horrible winter weather is good though, what January is supposed to be like. It makes me want to stay inside and listen to good music. (Like this amazing live Bon Iver concert: https://youtu.be/YJNi7aRwUzU )
I walked through a storm today. It’s sweeping over this dark country, we call it Helga like the girls name, like the old Swedish word for holy, like the songs sung at christmas and it makes the trees feel tall and loud. The sky throws things at us. There’s inspiration making my veins itchy. Why? Why now, when I’ve had a self absorbed no thoughts – all thoughts day. When I’ve forgotten to tell myself I’m brave ages ago. I walked through a storm today and it TORE THE BREATH FRom my lungs and I only ever scream when I’m silent.