I remember the rain. Or maybe it remembered me. I’m not sure which. But it sort of fit the day. It wasn’t a heavy rain, but a mist that you couldn’t really see but made everything wet. Not too cold, but not a day filled with exuberance.
This morning Tomas from the moving company came to do an estimate of our things for the move to Sakhalin. Part of me is excited about the move, but a big part really isn’t ready to leave Norway.
I went to pick up my new glasses – two pair in new, modern frames. It seemed fitting that they would be mist-spotted when I walked through downtown and then home. I found a cream pitcher that matches my Norwegian Figgjo tea pot, and an unusual thimble. Also, one more Norwegian glass candle holder that looks like melting ice. Not ready to let go, I’m finding small treasure to take with me.
In three weeks, we should be all packed up and maybe even on the plane, or going through Moscow airport on the way to our new, snowier home. I know I will enjoy it, because I have made up my mind that I will. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to come back here again – maybe for a visit, maybe longer.
There are so many photos here still untaken; so many memories still unmade.