Birthdays

Soon our family will be celebrating a birthday.  My cousin's husband is turning 60.  I remember as a child celebrating the birthday of my Uncle, when he turned 50, and then as a young adult, when my mother turned 60.  In Sweden these big birthdays, the new decade birthdays, call for big celebrations, and so they should.  Entering a new decade is a milestone and like all milestones it entails a new beginning and also an ending.

My perspective has changed as I've grown older myself.  I remember celebrating my ex-husband's 30th birthday, I still felt as though most of my life lay ahead of me, and looking back at the photographs I see a slim young girl with long brown hair who looks like me, but then again, not really.  It's as if I hadn't quite come into my own yet.  Hadn't quite become myself yet. 

Even though I may feel wistful about the long brown hair, with no streaks of grey in it, or the slim body, with no extra fat, or the supple limbs and joints with no aches and pains, I am content to be who I am now, today, sitting here watching a squirrel dancing in the cherry tree while the sun comes up.  Drinking my smoothie as I write this blog, with Monty lying on the sofa contentedly after his morning walk.

We will celebrate Per's birthday at a very special place called Ösjönäs which lies in the Swedish National Park of Tiveden, in Västergötland.  I have never been there before and I am looking forward to seeing a completely new part of Sweden and spending time with Per and Bodil and all their other invited guests.  Bodil and Per have always been there for me throughout my life.  They were at my wedding in 1989 with their 6 month old son Oskar, who is now 30.  They and the rest of my Swedish family are another huge reason why I was drawn to come and live here.  There's nothing like family, people who have known you your whole life and who have been there for you through thick and thin without judging you even if your life choices and perspectives are not the same as theirs.  There is also something strange and mysterious about this connection that runs in one's very blood.

The squirrel balances so nimbly on the swaying branches, flicking his tail and frolicking in the cold air.  It's -5 degrees c this morning and my pansies on the porch are drooping, but I hope they recover as the sun warms them.  Now the little fellow is sitting facing me and I can see his white belly.  "Thank you for my breakfast" he seems to be saying. He's ingenious and endearing, and for that I applaud him.