From Sweden with love

If I was able I would have made a multisensory presentation of all the wonderful things we experienced in Sweden for the last three weeks. Because I wish that you also could smell the pine needles in the forest warmed from the sun, feel the smooth and slick lake water against your skin, taste the tart lingonberries and hold the tiny frog’s cold body in your hand. And hear the wind in the old maples at the cemetery and the gravel under our shoes. See my mother’s hand rest on my son’s head for a moment longer before she had to leave. Hear the tiny voices call out in joy as they run down the path.

But I can’t do magic, only write and take pictures. So here are the top eight moments of the trip. One not more valuable than the other. All rich and full and precious.

1. First day we woke up to clear skies and a fresh, cool summer breeze. Nothing cures jetlag as well as exercise so we went out to re-explore my brother’s town. Picked up a few new children’s books, had lunch by the lake and climbed “the magic stairs”.

2. Adventure on Garpeberget (The Mountain of Garpe the Giant). According to the local newspaper we could look at carved out trolls and gnomes. We climbed to the top and walked into a magical fairytale forest, no trolls or gnomes in sight though. At the top we got ambushed by thunder and hail and had to run down.

3. Grandma (or mormor as we say in Swedish) came to visit. She showed up for breakfast on Monday morning and stayed for 48 hours. 48 hours is not a long time, too short in my opinion but you can’t teach an old dog to sit. She worried about my son jumping off cliffs, standing too close to the edge and climbing too high in the trees. She read him books, built Lego with him and took him fishing. I was relieved and happy to see that she seemed further away from death this year than last.

4. The food! The tender new potatoes that we ate every day, the tangy, crumbly cheese my son loves, cream so sweet you can drink it straight from the carton. Berries we picked; lingonberries and blueberries in the woods, late summer blackberries from the bush outside our tiny red house and wild strawberries along the paths. Sweet and tart. Thousands of years in one bite. Game meat my brother shot sometime during the winter, the meat bursting with flavor. One August tradition in Sweden is to eat crayfish, so me and my mother shared 30 of them.

5. The children whom all embraced my son as one of them. Made him braver, stronger and more of a rascal. All the tiny hands that took his hand in theirs and walked two and two, and three and three.

6. Astrid Lindgren's World, think Disneyland but more down to earth. Wonderful place built with children in mind. The kids are allowed to climb anywhere, run anywhere and do mostly whatever they want. To be free and wild like all the children are in Astrid Lindgren's books. And Pippi Longstocking is there of course.

7. Spending time in my father's town. For the first few days my heart foolishly believed something magical would happen and my father would come walking down the street. The sun bouncing off his white hair and I would walk straight into his arms. My 86 year old aunt kept her gaze on my son. She says he is not only a replica of my father but also has his mannerisms.