It’s become a tradition of mine, writing things on this blog way after the fact. My intention, however, is that I’ll from now on will be up to date. On Friday, I leave for Edinburgh together with dad. I have bought a small laptop, beautifully blue-green. I will be dad’s assistant, he’s going to write a piece about the new wave energy ventures off the coast of the Orkney Islands in northern Scotland. From there, I’ll then hop on the train and go across Europe, meeting up with old friends and making new ones on the way. And that’s just the way it is, I write the most and best when I’m traveling. But now, unlike during all my other trips these last few years, I’ll have a lot of spare time to do something with. I see myself sitting on trains, writing and going through my harvest of new photographs from the last city. In that way, I’ll have plenty of time to compose long travel inspired posts for the blog. Things rarely turn out the way I’ve planned, though, so we’ll see. Maybe I’ll be sitting here in September, writing about Scotland, way way behind. I’ll be pretty busy this summer.
But, yeah. So. On Friday more than a week ago, at about two in the morning, I turned in my degree project. Tomorrow I’m going to present it. Back in high school, my Swedish teacher was of the more austere kind and often slightly skeptical to the way I wrote, but he said I was a natural at oral presentations. Maybe that’s a gift I’ve lost, or then he was just odd – but I feel like all presentations I’ve held during the last years have been embarrassing and I’ve always started stuttering. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.
But during these twelve days that have passed since I turned in my paper, this odd bubble of being in between, I’ve had some really nice experiences. Except for finishing up my posts about Liberia and Brussels, I had an Almost Graduation Party together with Lina. Unfortunately, there was some technical issues with the subway and half of our guest couldn’t get out to the suburbs. But I made the most of it anyway, lost big at boule, two of the guests managed to lock themselves into the bathroom and I ended up having to simply disassemble the lock on the bathroom door. I am also pretty sure I managed to drink an entire bottle of champagne all by myself. I’ve never done that before. I never realized how bubbly that amount of champagne can make you feel. I must say the feeling quite agreed with me. The last guests left at three thirty in the morning. The sun was already on its way up.
The next day I spent with a headache and an uncharacteristic viscosity to my mental capacities. My stepmom picked me up and we went out to the summer cottage to prepare for her 50th birthday party. I drove dad to the market-garden and then helped him and stepmom to plant the blueberry and raspberry bushes and the apple tree (a Katja! the best kind!) that we had bought for her. The blueberries made me think of the Duckworths and when I wasn’t helping with the party preparations, I was lying in the grass reading The Horse Whisperer, an old and very shabby paperback copy that I’m pretty sure I picked up from a book exchange shelf in Cusco four years ago. And that made me miss Jay and the horses and it made me sad, that I can’t go back to Fort Langley or Sebastopol anytime soon – but also kind of amazed about the strong feelings of longing that these memories induced in me. It must mean that my North America trip was something special. But also that right now, I’m also in a good place – otherwise I wouldn’t feel that I can’t go back on the spot. In the end, isn’t that what life is all about, the creation of memories that make you feel strongly, ache and tingle and smile and grow.
The blueberry bushes I planted.
Brother and dad in hammock.
I went swimming in the lake with dad and my baby brother. The 50th birthday party was a success, the sun was shining and it was a perfect summer’s day. Both of my cousins on dad’s side were there with their babies, these lovely little bundles of delight and wonder.
And it hit me. Last time there was a party like this at the summer cottage was when dad turned 50 six years ago. I had just graduated from high school and had no idea what to do about my life. I had no faith in the future either, what with climate change and the state of the global environment and economy and everything. I was not happy, and I remember going to hide in the guest house, where I usually reside when I’m at the cottage, watching Gilmore Girls while the party was going on outside.
Life is pretty similar now. I’ve (almost) graduated from the next level of my education, and don’t really know what’s going to happen in the future – not even in the fall. The global economy has taken a turn to the worse, and the reports about the environment aren’t getting any better either. But life is also so very different. That despair, I don’t carry around on it anymore. I’ve learned stuff, both at university and from people I’ve met, from my travels, from myself. It’s not as if things are any better in an objective sense. It just feels – I don’t know. Like life. Is worth it. Anyway.
I guess the biggest change during the last six years is that I’ve become so very corny. But I don’t mind. Tomorrow I present my bachelor’s thesis. Then, I’m off on the next adventure.
Katja Malmborg 