Sweet Serenity

November 27, 2009

            I watched my mom board the bus to the airport about three hours ago. It was such a nice visit. I was really glad that she got to come to Finland and have an experience of her own. It made me feel good to be able to be a part of that. We did some traveling. We stayed within Finland and went to Rovaniemi in Lapland and Ranua to the zoo. It was so beautiful up north. There was so much snow… I’ve never seen that much snow in my life. I always use so many words. I feel less like talking today. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

            On the way to the bus stop this morning, I looked over at my building from afar and I couldn’t see my bike parked in front. I kept walking and starting thinking in my head of where I may have misplaced my bike or parked it somewhere else and forgotten. I hoped this was the case. On my way back, I went and looked and my bike wasn’t where I had parked it the day before. I explicitly remember parking it there in the snow and going inside to wake my mom up the day before. Just to be sure, I walked around the other two sides of the building and checked the other places I sometimes park it. I found nothing. I was put out and felt pretty helpless. It made me more sad than anything. I wanted to be able to ride my bike around these last weeks in Finland. I wanted to be able to explore more and take long, peaceful rides. My bike gave me the independence I crave so much. And now, she’s gone. I was pretty angry at Finland at first. I didn’t know what else to be angry at. But, I realized that being angry isn’t going to bring my bike back or really make me feel any better. I pray that it shows back up. I wouldn’t be mad at all if I walked out one day and she was sitting there. The bike kind of meant more to me than just a ride. It was much more.

I’ve begun thinking about how I’m leaving soon and I’m afraid I’m really going to miss things about this place. This has become home to me. It may be dysfunctional, hard to understand, and inconvenient at times… but it’s home. I think what I’ll miss the most is the quiet. I don’t just mean the lack of city “hustle and bustle” or the fact that I never hear sirens or that the woods are so still and tranquil. The people are quiet and I love that. I never feel like people are invading my space (unless you happen upon an intoxicated Finn) and when I want to be left alone, I am. I’m going to miss the quiet mumbling of Finnish words with extreme pronunciations that are unmistakable even at their barely audible volumes. It’s so easy to drown out the world here. It’s easy to be… quiet.