Stories to be told
The sweet sound of summer rain against warm pavements.
Me, snuggled up in bed.
Windows wide open but the windowsills keep me safe.
A part of me wish you were here, a part of me is happy to enjoy the moment to myself.
Finally, a good excuse to stay in and write.
A friend asked why I didn’t blog so often these days. I said I’ve been busy living the moments, creating the memories.
I’ve tried to sit down and write but I’ve been too restless, to caught up with everything.
I’ve wanted to write about our Rolling Stones experience, about being shuffled to the handicapped section because of a boyfriend on crutches and his girlfriend being too late.
But how we laughed about it in the end.
Or the Arcade Fire show in the park when you told me how much you love to watch me dance and how I told you I love you.
And about celebrating Swedish Midsummer surrounded by family and friends.
How we rode the back seat of my brother’s convertible car.
How my sister played the guitar and my Dad sang.
How you tried Swedish food you’d never tried before and loved it.
How we sang ‘snapsvisor’ and danced funny dances around the May pole.
How it was the coldest Midsummer in 60 years.
How we all warmed up in front of the fireplace with red wine.
How you and I slept in the caravan and lay early mornings and talked about life.
How my two South African friends came to Rättvik.
And how we all knew these were special times.
Yes. My head is full of words and my heart full of emotions.
But there are new moments to be lived. And stories to be told.