They are both grounded and free, beautiful and unaware.
So much so that I can only sit in awe that they exist.
In America, we are fast.
We talk fast, we move fast and want it all...fast.
We listen to talk and when we do, we can't stop.
So when I arrived back in the country this Fall, I was in
absolute shock every time I opened my mouth or even worse,
kept it closed to "listen."
Yes because even I, a self-confessed addict to world traveling
can't keep my big, fat trap shut practically the minute my little
American toes hit my home turf.
And when I did arrive and was almost immediately interrupted
without even remote acknowledgement of what I said,
I just went along with it.
I hung out with okay-no-so-great-for-me people and took
whatever morsel they were willing to give out.
No, I don't mean a long criminal history, you're not so
nice to meet kind of friend.
I just mean the kind of friend(s) that slipped in while
you weren't paying attention...
Which was, well.. a lot of the time.
And I guess I went into some sort of denial or worse yet,
fell right back into what seemed to be cultural role.
So tonight as I toss back wine and salad, spinach pizza and
conversation, I look across the table at each of my Swedish
friends., Lisen and Eva and in beautiful awe, can't believe
but thank my lucky Texas stars... that I let myself go.
It's only been 5 hours since their arrival and already, I am
aware that my guards are down and imagine this... I am safe.
There is no waiting to talk, talking so you can't breath nor
taking whatever morsel is willingly offered.
No, "so, tell me how it's going with so and so and so and so..."
But more like a natural progression and one that tells me, you...
someone is REALLY listening.
The kind of conversation, without pretense and competition,
haste or pride. The kind that flows...literally...like the very
red wine we are drinking.
So before tonight... I had forgotten.
Forgotten how much I miss Europe and Sweden.
My Scandinavian friends and bottom line, being around
souls that just get it.
Is it like my sister Annette who has been practically
native in Spanish since a little girl? Who listens to mostly
Latin music, watches Latin novellas and for lack of a better
way to describe it, seems to belong to the culture?
Is it like that?
Do I just have an infinity to the Scandinavian way of life?
Is it like the way my music has brought me into a culture .. one
which my sister fluent in Spanish will never understand?
Just as I will never understand hers?
Is it yet another thing to love?
Because here I am in America and for the life of me,
I can't think of one time I have felt this free to flow
and hit the ground at the same time...
There is love in the house tonight.
My girls are fast asleep after more than 48 hours
of traveling and being awake.
Two bottles of wine, one pizza and a salad later... they
are probably so far gone they have no idea they have
both turned my world upside down and inside out at
the same time.
You know, the kind of inside out that reminds you
it's okay if you put your shirt on backwards sometimes.