My haven

I pack my cabin bag but it is still almost empty. All I need is already there. I might leave Switzerland with a half empty bag, but it is always filled to its brim when I return. 

I go through security, double check which gate to go to. I stop at my favorite airport café and pick up a latte and a croissant and a salad for the flight. The food onboard is not the greatest... I feel like a runaway Mama. Leaving all kids at home with their father to do my thing. It is liberating and makes me a bit anxious at the same time. I guess I like to look at myself as indispensable...Or maybe this is the result of living in a motherhood bubble for such a long time...

I find my seat, turn on a podcast and bring out my crochet. 2 hours and 40 minutes it takes to get home. Quality time for me, myself and I.

I have two homes. One in Switzerland and one in Sweden. Sweden will always be the place I'll return to no matter what happens. Switzerland is just temporary... It's been temporary for over 10 years now. That is life for me as an expat. 

We land and the first thing I do is stop at the Pressbyrån kiosk in the arrival hall to buy a magazine, a bag of my favorite sweets and Cheese Doodles. I go and pick up my rental car. This time I actually got the model I reserved. Surprise! I tune in my favorite radio station, P4 Stockholm, and the drive to our summer house begins. The landscape I drive through is kind of dull, grey and sluggish this time of the year. There is some snow but no signs of spring yet. I drive pass Swedish red cottages, horses and big fields and forests... By the time I reach my cottage, half the bag of sweets is gone... I lied. The whole bag is gone. Of course. I've reached my destination. I'm here.

My brother Christian has turned on the heaters and left the key in the red front door. It is still very cold inside. Especially on the floor. I turn on the old transistor radio for company and some lights as it is getting dark outside. I check the water to see if the pipes have survived winter this year. They are all solid and with a victory gesture I loudly pronounce my relief with a big "YES!" creating a bit of an echo in the house. Last year every pipe had frozen and broken. It cost me a small fortune... I jump into my cottage outfit: an old pair of jeans (dirty as hell, have I ever washed them?) and an oversized washed out sweater. Dad's old jacket (which goes down to my knees at least...) and ankle high wellies.

I walk down to my brother's house and he greets me with a big bear hug. He has lit his fire place and dinner is on the stove. We chat and hang out until late when I make my way back to my cottage in the dark, guided by the iPhone flashlight. My cottage is much warmer now. I do my bedtime routine, turn off the radio and the lights and tuck myself in. The silence. The silence is so intense that it is almost uncomfortable in the beginning. It makes me want to hold my breath. My senses are desperately searching for something to take in: wind, cracking noises in the walls, animals, white noise from the fridge... Nothing. Who would have thought silence could be so... loud? Maybe it is my brain that is loud? Within minutes I'm fast asleep. 

The weekend moves on and I go for long walks, clean in the cottage, prepare it for the sale. Make the beds in the kids' cottage and try my best to make it look as cozy and attractive as possible for a future viewing. 

A big tree has fallen down in the back of the garden, luckily it has fallen right next to the kids' cottage and not on top of it. A neighbor tells me that about a dozen trees fell down in the big storm in January and amazingly no ones' property has been smashed, but there is still a lot of work left to clean up the mess. 

We have a great community here. We look out for each other at all times. I will still be a part of it after the summer house is sold. It is comforting to know. That I will still come out here. This is my haven. My place to disconnect from the demanding roles of being a mother, wife, professional and a woman with a busy life. Here I am just me and the most important thing in the day is to eat, walk, chill and do small improvements of the house and garden. No mountains of laundry, agendas to follow, picking up after family members, taxi service, activities, big dinner preparations, filling and emptying of dishwashers or making ends to meet. Here life is down to its core of simplicity. And quietly, while sitting there with a cup of tea and flicking through an old magazine with the radio buzzing in the background I wonder: "Why do we need more? Isn't this just enough?" I so wish life could always be this simple. 

Kärlek
Annette

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