These are snippets from my life retold as tiny stories. This episode is from my week spent visiting my hometown Stockholm a week ago.
My sister Moa wakes up before me. Her window still doesn’t have blinds but it doesn’t disturb our sleep as darkness is still enveloping the city. We’re sharing a bed in her boyfriend’s parents apartment in the city. It is weird, as never have I met them until I knocked on their door two days ago. For some reason it doesn’t feel that odd though. I think it’s because with Moa everything is always odd so one gets used to it. They left the city over the weekend, so we are looking after their two obese cats. I normally hate cats, but the fat ones are for some reason alright, and their eldest is as fat as it gets. Bongo he’s name is, and he displays love handles like no other. During the nights I’ve stayed here he’s crawled up the bed to nestle into my arms and spoon the whole night through. Purrs, warm paws and fur in my nose. I hate to admit it but it’s so cozy I will consider becoming a cat person.
I can hear Moa preparing breakfast in the kitchen, cupboards slamming, the murmur of the coffee machine and the muffled suction of the fridge opening and closing, opening and closing. The coffee is strong and so different from the instant crap I suffer through in England. Also here the eggs have white shells, like in cartoons. I can hear the kids upstairs run across the floorboards, the sound of home. Moa tells me stories about friends’ Instagram dramas and the job at TV4 she is starting on Monday. She pauses midst making two big sandwiches filled with kaviar to gesture wildly with her hands, eyebrows dancing together with her facial expressions. Her taste in breakfast and anecdotes is impeccable.
Fucking lucky bastards who get to spend all their days with her. I long for the day that my body and mind will crave a calmer lifestyle. Then I will move back here to eat egg sandwiches with my sister. Outside it’s not light yet because it’s in the belly of the Scandi winter. Worryingly I’m enjoying it and awful lot, which maybe isn’t a bad thing.
OTHER TINY STORIES