Waiting

Sad songs

Hello my friends. Monday again, followed by sad songs from the North. Well they are not sad, just melancholic.
I realize you are still with me. You are from all continents. China and Japan, USA, and sometimes a letter tick in my mailbox from south Africa. If I was feeling better, I would love to answer them all. From my heart.

But there are more.
After I got ill, some Norwegian friends joined my opera, to keep in touch with me .Not all of them commented on my writing,they were scared of using their English, but wanted to know how are things going. How are you unni. They followed my journey through my first chemo, they came close and I felt my friends were there for me.
One of them was Marianne, or actually two Marianne. I used to work with one of them. So when Leonrad Cochen sings his ”So long Marianne”, I long for her.Won’ t you come over to sit by my window. We will do that in heaven, Marianne.
The other Marianne was reading through my first book manus. She put trust in me, encouraged by her, I I dedicated the book to her. The next one will be be written in heaven. So long Marianne.

I want to thank you for stepping by. Knowing that you were here, reading my fiction and my personal posts, kept me going. There are some times in life we need to say ’so long’.

Yesterday was my last birthday. Forgive me for saying that, but I am afraid it’s the truth. The reality. I know this, and the poeple who sent me the flowers, know this, too. My living room looks like a florist shop. Well, I said to myself, ”at least you are able to see these flowers.” Tulips in all colours, red roses and light blue hortensia.. My cupboard is empty, all the vases and pots are in use. What a luxury problem. A song came with them; On a bed of roses. ”While we're talking
about all of the things that I long to believe
About love, the truth, what you mean to me and the truth is
Baby you're all that I need. I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses. ”

All the flowers in the house, brought with them thoughts, memories, and a touch of nostalgia and melancholy.
My father called me in the afternoon.. He voice was not very clear after a stroke, but he wanted to speak to me. He asked me how I was. When I told him I wasn’t feeling well, I broke down and cryed. Good bye papa, it’s hard to die, when all the birds are singing in the sky.
It’s hard for a father to loose his daughter no matter how old he is. I will always be his daughter.

My youngest daughter was home for the weekend. We managed a little heart to heart talk. I told her: ”The worse thing is to know the things I will have to leave behind. I want to see you getting married, I want to see who you marry, I want to hold your baby.”
I know these are selfish thoughts. I should have been thinking of her, her loss in life.
Who will she call and ask for money when I am not here? I will miss that! J


When I am gone, no need to wonder if I ever think of you. A line from Queen.
The blossom knows there's no one else could warm my heart as much as you.

Well I sit here with my armful of flowers. I could leave them all om my couch and lay down on a bed of roses. While we're talking about all of the things that I long to believe
About love, the truth, what you mean to me and the truth is.
Baby you're all that I need

I wanna lay you down on a bed of roses.

She sat on a bench with her brown leather suitcase next to her feet. She was not sure what she had put in it. It had beeen ready for a week. Had she remembered to pack a dress? She would need at least one. An some open sandals and a pair of comfortable shooes.
A couple of new cardigans, one yellow and one white.They had been christmas presents from her sister, actually grey, and made of wool. She had gone back to the shop and bought them in them in light colours,and of cotton. She was not sure she could dare to wear shorts, her legs were not tight anymore, but a singlet would do fine. Her arms were not the worse part of her boy.

Her passport was in her black handbag, together with her tickets. She hoped her passport was valid. She had read that some countries required you to have a tourist visa for visits of less than three months. For less than three months. She didn’t know how long this would take.
She had been to a bank and changed her currency. This should be enough for a carabbean cruise. She opened the bag; a red lipstick, a small lunch packet, a white handkerchief with embroideries. An envelope with a name on, written with fine letters. Just in case. Then a christmascard she had picked up from the mailbox on her way out of the house. A greeting from a friend. ” I wish you good health my dear friend. It is the most impostant thing in life.” She unfoled the card in anger and closed the bag.

She noticed the crowded people passing by. They were all in a hurry, from place to place. Buisness men in dark suits with their grey leather folders in their hands. There were many of them. Now and then uniformed women showed up. Stewardesses she assumed. When was the last time she had seen one? She recalled the sweet stewardess from The terminal. She smiled by the thought of her and also by the thought of all the stupid TV soaps she woudn’t miss.


People were sleeping on benches around her. Some with a book under their head, others sitting with their eyes closed. There were shops were all the way, she got a feeling she was on mall. Fashionable ladies shopping parfume, guided by pretty women with perfect make up, who’ll let them smell it first. The picture appeared attractive to her. She would buy some. May be later. She would do that.

A group of young women gathered at a coffee and sandwich shop. They opened their laptops and she heard them laugh. Free, cheerful laughter.
When was the last time she had laughed? cheerfulness, delight, enjoyment, gladness, joy, pleasure, rejoicing. Some words had simply vanished from her vocubulary. Words she had lost somewhere on her way.



Suddenly she started to think of her medicine. Had she remembered them all? The pink ones which kept her pain away, the white ovale ones that made her sleep. She opened her bag and checked. Yes, they were all there. She made a sigh in relief. Well, it was no big deal anyway.
May be she wouldn’t need them. May be a miracle would happen.
Or perhaps it would happen soon. Perhaps the journey of life was over before hers had started.

The random aspects of lives Come together once in a while

She heard her last call and went to check in.

Poeple are so busy at this time. I wonder where they are and what they are doing? I hardly see anyone online anymore.
Well, I do have my some suspicions. They are shopping. Gifts and meat. At least if they are Norwegians.
Meat for Christmas dinner is not regular meat. It has to be perfect. So it requires some inspection. According to my husband. I don't care much about meat at all, I wouldn’t mind eat only vegetables, and perhaps just add a meatball or two, for the sight.
But there is nothing like the smell from the ’christmas meat’. I must agree.
I started my preparations for Christmas quite early this year. You see, last year I was ill November and December had not a chance to go out shopping gifts to any of my friends or family. I wrote a list to my friend, and she was happy to go shoppig for me. I was very pleased with her choices, but this year I decided to start early, in case my chemo treatment would make me ill.
So all the christmas shopping is done, and may be that’s why I feel people are so busy. There are not many people around, not even online. Where are they? Baking, shopping, preparing for the season holiday?
The main Christmas day in Norway, is Christmas Eve. I would assume 25 % of Lyngdal’s inhabitantas go to church on Christmas Eve. The family services starts in the afternoons and last forabout 45 minutes. We sing Christmas songs and read from Luke 2, The Birth of Jesus. ”In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a cencus should be taken of the entire Roman world.” You all know the story. (if not ask)
When we get home from church, we eat the mail meal for Christmas, which is dryed and salted lamb, cooked in the oven on birch brances. This meat is served with potatoes and swede. The swede is mashed into a stew. This is more or less our main meal. For dessert cooked rice in whipped cream.
For all impatient kids, and grown ups, the ’distributing’ of the gifts come now. They are wrapped and are under the decorated christmas tree. Every year we say ”I don’t need anything for Christmas, I am so lucky I have everything’ which is true. But we have learned to accept whatever we get.
I have given up being the traitor and ruiner of the most important celebration. And you know, it is great joy to buy og make gifts for the people who are close to you and who you love.
This year I am expecting my two girls and my son- in- law coming home for Christmas. It’s good to have something to look foreward to. They will come to a decorated house, a clean house, but this year they’ll have to help with some baking. They won’t mind.

And there were spepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over ther flocks at night and an angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them.
”Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.
Today in the town od David a savior has been born. He is Christ the Lord.

Coming Home for Christmas.

The house was surrounded with peace. A black car I had never seen before was parked with the front towards the road. It was about noon. Lunchtime. I parked the car , front to front, and slammed the door.

It didn’t take long time before I heard footsteps inside the house. Shortly after the door was opened by a woman at approximately my age. Her hair was white as snow, but this was far from a fairy tale. This was real life. If I believed in life at all.
I had never seen her before. But she looked nice and she gave me confident enough to ask:
”Is she in?”
A stupid question. I knew she was not able to leave the house. The woman nodded, staring at me.
”Can I come in?”
She was not sure. I could tell by the way she looked at me. "Who are you", her eyes asked.
”Tell her I am here and if I can see her for only two minutes.”
She nodded again and left me.
I waited patiently. Oh God, was she this bad.

I heard low voices and suddenly she was back. She held the door open for me and I stepped in. The hallway was small. I looked around in the dim light. I had been here many times before, but this was the first time someone else had ever opened the door for me.
The woman left me and then I heard someone saying:
”Is that you?”
I turned and looked down at her. She stood halfway up the wooden stairway. Her hair was grey and her face pale. She moved slowly towards me, one step at a time. She started to cry before she reached the top. I waited for her and embraced her the moment she reached me. She cryed with her face close into mine. Cheek to cheek. I felt her tears on my skin, wet and salty.
I stood there, with my arms around her, listening to her sobbing. She was exhausted after weeks and months with pain and lack of sleep.
What could I say. I felt so sorry for her. My heart ached for her.

Perhaps I should have began to pray, but instead a song came into my head. The lyrics filled me slowly while we stood there, me holding her. Do you believe in life after love. I can feel something inside me say, I really think you are strong enough. My God you’ve tryed so hard.
God , where are you in all this? There’s no talking to you and this makes me so sad.

What was I suppossed to do, she had waited for a long time. For relief. How is it possible to move on. Can love make us strong enough to carry on? Did she belive in life at all?
” I know you will get through this, I know you are strong,” I whispered.
”Yes” she cryed.
I whispered all the soft words I could think of, reassuring words, think positive words., stay strong words.
”This is what friends are for. To share burdens. Your burden is mine right now, I walk with you. ”
Words.
The woman with the blond hair appeared, she was crying, too.
We stood in silence the three of us.

God in heaven, when I meet you in sky, I have many questions. The first one is why.