Sitting in the Quincy Street Park drinking a Dunkin’ coffee, Cream no Sugar, and eating a Cortland apple from the early open Market Basket is part of normal life.
The fact that I live in Daas gate, four blocks from the King’s palace in Oslo does not make it feel any less normal.
The grey squirrels scurrying up the tall maple while the A/C from the house next to the park drones above the soft hum of the early morning traffic is normal, even though the squirrels back home are all red and there is no A/C to be heard.
The abundance and variety of products at every store, the easy driving, the comfortable large homes are all normal, matter-of-fact experiences of a life nearly half spent in this country.
Going
to the Apple store at the Peasant Lane Mall and having Pick 2 for lunch at Panera afterwards is normal. The smells at Trader Joe’s or the Yankee Candle store are guideposts placing me in familiar surroundings, making me feel at home. The Pumpkin Cheesecake offered at the free sample stand is a familiar sign that New England is gearing up for the Fall. Nobody has to tell me or explain.
Next week we are going to Life Alive and Brew’d to meet friends. I will shop at the old Market Basket and hopefully get an ice cream at Sulley’s. We will get off at exit 32 Drum Hill and drive over to Pleasant street.
And here normal has to yield to “new,” as we will no longer turn into the driveway at 9 Pleasant.
There is no Moxi in the back yard. My lovely peach day lilies have had to blossom without me for 4 years. Will my mums be blooming when I drive by? Might I see Tina or Joanne or Diane in their yards? Is Joe still there?
As much as everything about this place with its sights, smells and sounds welcomes me back to a life where I belong, 9 Pleasant with its 22 years of memories is no longer mine to enter. Its joys and sorrows, daily routines and nightly rest is now a time capsule of memories. I remember the morning we saw the racoon in the big pine tree, the hoot owl that visited once, the hawk swooping down to nail a chipmunk. There, Moxi chased squirrels and Sweetie caught and left little critters as trophies. David with the looper in the basement made soundtracks to my housework. Ingrid busy doing homework or beading, or baking for her mission trip always filled the house with life.
I am grateful to have made this place my home for so long I will always belong here. I feel so lucky to live in a time in history where I can come back to sit with friends and continue a face-to-face relationship, even though an ocean now separates us most of the time. And then I am grateful for memories I can hold on to as treasures I have stored up.
This too is my life. This will always be part of who I am.
Som storbybeboer har jeg fått et spesielt forhold til bilhold og offentlig kommunikasjon.



