2015 was a big year. Not because it was longer (not even a leap year), but because I experienced much, much more than I normally do. Time is very much elastic and subjective.
In late 2014, I went back to Denmark, my country of birth to reconnect with my first culture, to have a foot on the ground in the country I chose to leave behind 24 years ago and to connect with my growing family.
Slowly, it stops struggling in her hands. It grows limp and heavy in the water. She lets go and sniffles. It starts sinking as it floats towards the long reflection of the moon, clearer now the lake is still again. She stands up and wades back to the shore. She struggles to dress, her body shaking and her wet skin resisting the dry clothes. A black bird whistles its too cheerful, too early morning song nearby. Suddenly, she regrets leaving the body in the lake. She looks around for a stick to retrieve it with before it sinks too deeply into the bog.
—Jump in the front, he said in his deep throaty voice.
She loved that voice. She loved the stories it told at bedtime, about adventures in distant countries a long time ago. Sometimes its rhythm and hum left her nodding off before the end. She also loved how this voice could laugh. When he sat in his favourite arm chair with a book or the paper, he would come across an amusing passage or an absurd situation and his laugh came deep down from his throat as a kind of guttural hiccup. He absorbed the anecdotes in detail and incorporated them into his own stories. When he re-told these stories his laugh developed into a hearty infectious roar. Continue reading The Drive→