Being home after weeks away makes me feel like jigging, though I don’t actually know how to jig. I assume it includes planting your fists on your hips, arms akimbo and kicking your legs scissory from under your tartan but I may be getting confused with a reel. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Spring is far more advanced here than it was in either Michigan or Massachusetts. I didn’t sleep on the atlantic flight at all, choosing instead to spend more than half the flight absorbed in movies I would probably never have gotten around to seeing. The first one, Stranger Than Fiction, I was intensely glad that I took the time for, but the other, Dreamgirls, more or less elicited a Meh from me though Beyoncé is really beautiful and bears an eerie resemblence to Diana Ross, though not nearly as eerie as Diana Ross looks in real life. I’ve always half suspected she’s a Kim Cattrall-like manniken, myself (Diana, not Beyoncé, that is).
The trees are so much greener here, in that thousand-shades-of stage that I love so much. I got through baggage claim and out to the train station much faster than I had anticipated and the train whizzed me across the breezy Öresund, tipped with tiny whitecaps and larger sailboats and deposited me in Sweden. I sat outside the train station waiting for my family to arrive, about half an hour in the sun and the wind, just looking at the trees and sniffing the air like a spring-drunk creature. The cherry trees are still blooming and the chestnuts as well. Surprisingly, the rapeseed is standing tall and neon-yellow in the fields already; it’s nearly 3 weeks early.
My family pulled up to where I sat by the curb, madly waving in every window. As soon as the door was opening Karin latched on to me and gave me one of her patented super-strength LOVEHUGS. I had to practically pry her off to give equal time to Martin and Anders. 🙂 I’ve been in a daze the rest of the day. I’ve unpacked and mostly put away, and had a 2-hour nap. We’ve been to see Happy Feet at the theater and out for sushi for dinner, so I feel at home in nearly every good way!
Great Poetry Out There Right Now: The minotaur ate the pastor’s wife (and her hat)