July has passed and the summer will enter the next service.
A month that, when I was younger, was my favorite, was now replaced in August. I wake up early, open a window and pull the cool air.
It smells like apple and lavender. The leaf of the oak is darkened and remains three lonely pears on our old tree.
The light is pale and vanilla yellow.
Not cold, but not hot either.
I realized that the Swedish high summer offers an aesthetics and a pace that I don’t appreciate.
Sandy hands, shiny boilers, cookie crumbs, beer cans and folded juice glass.
When August comes in, a calmness settles.
Both seats and beach places continue to exist.
Österlen was the most beautiful day we left.
We took roads that we have never driven before, opportunities behind every top.
The dream of a different life.
I am honored to be with my daughter for five intense weeks. See the world from her perspective, stop, reflect. And sometimes remember.
She knows that her grandmother and grandfather live in heaven, sometimes mentioned and points to the clouds with her tanned little index finger.
But she knows no more than that, which is understandable.
On the way to Bornholm, on a ferry full of tourist Swedes and stressed Danes, we sat in a chair and looked over our endless Öresund.
She suddenly exclaims: grandpa, grandfather, grandfather.
Maybe you were there. Maybe not?
July has passed and the summer is entering the next service, so me too. It smells like apple and lavender and my daughter sleeps heavily.
With sun-bleached Pippi tattoos I form her childhood and I cook the cracks in my own.
Remember what has been strengthened and draw on what has become ..
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#Thoughts #August