It is so hard to
put in words. The feeling driving from Umeå City Airport to my village on the
arrival back in Sweden. Making a detour for a car switch. And a stop for gas.
And another one for groceries. And it takes like… no time! And then pulling over
at my house, parking the car. Just parking it. Right where I want it to be!
It’s like a
hundred tons are lifted from my shoulders. It’s like… I can breathe. It’s so
interesting, when you are in the middle of it, it is what it is and you just
deal with it. Seattle traffic has always been bad, but I don’t think it’s ever
been as horrible as this summer. The road constructions creating the Mercer
(Street) Mess and the I5 freeway exits impossible. Also, staying at lower Queen
Anne you are right there, gridlocked whenever you need to be somewhere. And
parking the car is this tired slow race through the blocks hunting for a spot
where you won’t have been ticketed in the morning. But, of course, landing on
the couch in front of The Seattle Skyline View, it’s all worth it!
Seattle is a
pretty big city. The Big Little City, as they say. And arriving there I just
love being caught up in the miraculous collaborative project it is diving in on
I5 north from Sea-Tac towards downtown. Feeling my pulse rise as I enter the
city playing my way between the high rises, excited to be a part of the pace.
And there it stays. Pulse high, pace fast, becomes normal and I love it, and
yes, this is my place, this is my match, this is where I am supposed to be!
Until I am back at
the end of the road in my little village in the northern Swedish woods. Feeling
the weight from the intensity of the city vanish from my body. The information
attacks scatter and disappear. My pulse slow down and the pace take the shape
of soft flames in the fireplace in my kitchen. I am cleansing my mind with
Sveriges Radio and Sveriges Television (the Swedish Public Service Radio and
TV) not bothering with the commercial channels for some days, and it’s so quiet
here that I wake up from the silence during the night. And I am thinking; this
is my home, this is where I belong.
And there we are.
There is no right or wrong here. I am a very fortunate woman. Feeling equally
happy in two places, so different in shape and pace. Home is away, away is home.
No comments:
Post a Comment