We boarded a plane, lived with a group of people for 10 hours, landed, boarded another plane, landed, rented a car, loaded the kids and luggage and strollers and car seats up and we were there.
In my memories.
Driving the roads by memory, the sweeping fields the small one lanes, the dotted red and yellow houses, the old school house.
And yet it wasn’t a memory. It was all still there. Just like it was last time I revisited the memory.
And just as quaint, as beautiful, as peaceful.
Minus the screeching toddlers in the back seat and the roaring of wee sings.
We pulled down the familiar gravel driveway that we hundreds of times ran down to catch the city bus that would take us to the small school house.
I rolled down the window and watched the forest, that we would pick wild berries and mushrooms, pass by. I breathed in the familiar smell of the blossoming cherry blossoms.
And we finally stopped short of the old house and pull into a new driveway, one that was not here in our childhood days, a new crisp red pure Swedish house.
My sister came bounding down the steps with huge welcoming hugs.
We were there. No longer in my dreams but really there!
People and cities and shopping and eating and child care taking and meetings and food and candy and coffee and fika.
We were there.
For 3 weeks!
In a country I love, speaking a language I treasure, gathering with friends I admire.
It was amazing.
If only it wasn’t an ocean between us! If only it didn’t take two days of jet lag plus 15 hours of air travel (x 2) !
If only it didn’t have a price tag.
And then again, coming home, back to another country I love and the people I love and the family and things and food and stores and roads and well just about everything I love.
So from amazing to amazing.
I am so lucky!