I'm just an ordinary girl living in extraordinary circumstances.

November 30, 2004

When You Turn Every Corner and Have a Memory

We arrived in Stockholm early afternoon on Saturday. As we walked out of the plane and onto the ramp, I realized that it was all how I remembered it-Arlanda airport, the ramps, the feel and purring sound of Swedish of the flight attendant on the intercom. There was something so overwhelmingly familiar and yet utterly difficult about it all.

After we collected our suitcases, we went out into the world outside the revolving doors. It was a cold world, a world graced with snow flurries, a world that was utterly dark and grey, a world marked with beautiful Christmas decorations that punched light into an otherwise dark day. I hadn't remembered my jobless November last year wrong-it was that dark. It was that cold.

It hurt that much.

A train ride into the city and a jaunt on the tunnelbana (subway) as the snow begins to fly down in earnest and the day comes to a bitter resignation, the light of day never making it to our eyes. I remember so many things, so many places. A restaurant. A bar. A bookshop. A train stop. All so familiar and yet so far away. My former life all suspended in a snowglobe, a tiny capsule that exists only in parts of my memory and heart.

I was so confused. Parts of me felt like I was twisted and torn-how could I return to Sweden, this land that saw me crash and burn? And yet, how could I not come to this world, this country that helped me find love, this country that holds so many happy memories, this country that helped me know what I could stand and what would break me?

We check into our hotel-a lovely fantastic hotel, the Hilton Slussen (although we know it as the Scandic Slussen, before it was bought by the icky Hilton clan). Angus takes me upstairs and we take a nice warm shower. On the bed, he holds me tightly and makes love to me, cherishing me and charging me with what I needed-pure honest support and dedication. We leave the windows in the room open, windows that face several floors of a workplace, and just allow each other's limbs and lips to travel and transplant, to reassure and reacquaint.

We then head into town, to the area that I used to live in for a family dinner, and after that meet Best Friend for drinks in an Irish bar.

I had forgotten how quiet the snowfall makes the world. I had forgotten the grace that you feel when the snow falls on your face and muffles your hearing, the sweet feeling of a flake landing on your lashes and eyebrows. I had forgotten how much I love looking up at the streetlights and watching the silhouette of the flakes polka-dot my sight. I may remember the cold and the dark, but I had lost sight of how clear the snow makes you feel.

I miss the snow.

I really do.

On Sunday we missed the chance to go to Sirup in Odenplan-my favorite Sunday haunt, a restaurant that serves my favorite American Sunday breakfast-as we had to go to my storage unit outside the city. We found our way there, and hiked in the freezing cold to the Shurgard place, a silent Trojan Horse designed to bring me to my knees. When we get inside there is a bit of confusion-a padlock is on my storage unit and my tears bring the staff there to unlock it.

Inside of the unit is my life. A 150 year-old rocking chair, some hockey equipment, some pictures, and 18 boxes. Boxes that represent thoughts, times, feelings, emotions, experiences. We didn't have much time so I hastily plowed through them, looking for what I needed-some boots. Cookbooks. A few pictures. A blanket my great-grandmother sewed for me. A soft throw my grandmother gave me. The pajamas I lived in last winter. An antique street sign I'd found in one of the flats in which I'd lived in Stockholm.

Mostly what I needed was to feel my possessions in my hands again.

There is no therapy that feels that good.

Angus and I carried the selected items back with us to the hotel, then went and bought a few Christmas decorations for the house. We bought lights for the window. A Swedish candelabra for the house to light up the winter nights. Some Greve and Herregard, some of the best Swedish cheese you can get. I thoroughly enjoyed walking around the Christmas markets with my lovely, lovely boy.

I found that I have no problem trying to flex my Swedish muscle-not only am I not remotely uncomfortable speaking Swedish but I actually enjoy it. Maybe since it no longer counts so much I am willing to give it a try. Surprisingly, my Swedish (and Angus') is actually pretty good and I find I understand nearly everything being spoken around me.

Then Angus goes to meet his children Melissa and Jeff for dinner and a movie, and I meet Best Friend for a curry dinner in our favorite usual place and a trip to see The Incredibles. Angus, Best Friend and I meet up in a bar later and sink some drinks before Angus and I go back to the room and pack our things, before having a quickie and falling asleep.

Monday morning is very stressful for me, as all I can think about is getting my girls and making sure they're ok. As I take a train to the airport I look out the window and watch the falling snow. I realize that I love Stockholm, that I will always love Stockholm, but that it hasn't been my home for a long time.

I found a home.

I found a home in Whitney Houston that I want to stay in for a while, while I catch my breath from having the wind knocked out of me by life, while I massage away the marks from being coat hangered by my fate.

Angus and I had a great time in Stockholm, though, and have vowed to go back again soon-to not only consolidate his goods and my goods in the storage unit, but to also dip into our collective boxes and pull out a handful of our former lives and try to merge them together.

And I realized that Stockholm wasn't my enemy-in fact it's a city that I find breathtaking and lovely. It's a city I enjoy and want to go back to. It's a place that I both understand and find incomprehensible. It's not Stockholm that's the problem-it's me.

We plan on going back, and with Angus' help, I will be able to relax and enjoy the city that is called Beauty on Water. It truly is beautiful. It truly is special and wonderful.

As are some of my memories, which I wouldn't trade for anything.

-H.

PS-internet connection to hopefully be up and running on Wednesday! A return to regularly scheduled blogging (and more interesting/frequent posts!) to occur then!

PPS-my girls slept on the end of the bed. Maggie even likes to keep us company and sit in the bathtub while we're in the bathroom. I am so wildly happy and weepy to have them here, I'm like a Hallmark movie pumped up on estrogen.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:41 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 1239 words, total size 7 kb.

1 *hugs* you're going to owe me hankies if you keep this up!

Posted by: melanie at November 30, 2004 08:57 AM (Ovq6h)

2 Quite frankly I'd like to be taking the place of those cats. The stories they could tell!

Posted by: Simon at November 30, 2004 10:01 AM (FUPxT)

3 It is kind of like visiting an old you when you look at saved possessions, isn't it? I like doing that, too.

Posted by: RP at November 30, 2004 12:19 PM (LlPKh)

4 I'm so glad that you have Angus to help you through things like this visit. and SO thrilled for you to have your cats back. I know it must be wonderful to hear their little noises and feel the warmth of their bodies.

Posted by: martha at November 30, 2004 01:11 PM (5HJ2h)

5 I know what you mean about having the kittys in bed with you. Last night we got the dog home from the kennel, and it felt great to have hime lying at the end of the bed, hogging the covers as usual.

Posted by: Easy at November 30, 2004 01:23 PM (U89mk)

6 A Hallmark movie on estrogen? That some serious weepage! I'm so thrilled for you, though. You faced a city you associated with pain and realized its beauty, and you got your babies back at the same time. You rule.

Posted by: amy t. at November 30, 2004 03:38 PM (zPssd)

7 i had to leave my 2 boys behind when i left my husband. there's no chance i'll ever get them back. so i'm happy that you at least go your girls back. i don't have to tell you to treasure them. it appears you already do. happy for you, doll.

Posted by: becky at November 30, 2004 03:46 PM (Nfde1)

8 I'm glad your girls are doing so well! Try running the water in the bathtub. My little girl likes to sit in the bath tub and drink water from the faucet! Too cute.

Posted by: Erin at November 30, 2004 07:21 PM (PWgS9)

9 So happy you got your girls with you again!!! Also glad you have a place to call "home".

Posted by: Rebecca at November 30, 2004 08:56 PM (ZHfdF)

10 I always get swept away by your stories. Your Stockholm is my Washington, D.C., only I haven't yet emerged from the place where my heart (and somehow, most of my pain) resides. I'm glad you were able to take what was most important to you and be able to love it in a place where you felt safe enough to land.

Posted by: dawn at November 30, 2004 10:34 PM (Rgkju)

11 It doesn't surprise me at all that you still speak Swedish so well considering that you kept throwing in bits of it here and there while trying to speak French. Besides, you should keep up with it. You never know when you may find yourself in an Irish pub with some Finnish men.