Outside the open window, behind the growing pink flowers in their snug open vases, is a giant forest. A sprawling mass that reaches as far as the eye can see. Green everywhere, with a gentle breeze begging for company. Somehow, the breeze knows your name, and your favorite color, even exactly how you like your coffee, and if you don’t like coffee, it knows that too. The thick clouds, for their part, gleefully glide across the sky, flirting with the sun, covering it, exposing it, tucking it in halfway before fleeing across the blue expanse again.

Inside the homey blue kitchen there’s the comforting whirr of the water-boiler, signaling that soon it will be time for hot tea, and crumbling cookies. Then the family will come from all throughout the isolated house, to take hot tea, their favorite pastry, and gather in the living room for the lovely Swedish tradition of fika.

In the living room, there’s a quiet girl who is kind, friendly, and welcoming. There is an equally quiet father who reads a bible with one eye and watches a football match with the other. And next to me, there’s a thin and handsome blond man that I could not be more in love with, who has a rich deep voice, the kind that is a blessing to wake up to.

And there’s me. Sitting on a large couch with her favorite pastry and her favorite man; staring absentmindedly at the gorgeous scenery outside the window with a thousand thoughts bouncing inside her head.

I am finally happy, I am finally safe, I am in Sweden, with Karl-Johan. 

I am finally home.

 

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