The Trouble With Norway…

Today is my last full day in Norway- whatever posts follow will either be from airports or one of several Eastern and Central European countries (remember this is me… I don't half-ass much in this world).  I write this knowing full well that I have written a lot of end-blogs; many countries have kept me captive in my travels.  And yet this is not as difficult a final post to write as the final one from Iceland.  But that is not because I have had any less profound and humbling experience here as I did there.

Not at all.  If anything, this Norwegian adventure has been more profound, more humbling, and more startling than many of the others.

In my life I have been called worse than a 'nomad.'  Much worse, in fact- and it's not like my accusers are wrong, when they wonder if I even have the gene in me to be settled in one time, in one place.  I have been on the move, on the hunt for expansively confounding deep breaths and open spaces, for longer than I care to remind you.  Indeed I have worked incredibly hard to avoid the responsibility of 'place': except for the four-legged blonde boy (no one fear, Henry is happily at home with Mom and The Bob, stealing socks and terrorizing the Christmas Tree), I am largely lacking any component of adulthood as it is categorized by home-ownership, mortgage, and, well…. tethers.  I generally run hard and fast from those things.

But Norway is messing with my head.

I have experienced, here, something I did not think would ever be within my range of experiences- a place I could stay.  A place that fulfills me- the birds, the boats, the wild places that go on into the horizon.  Yeah, that horizon- the one that keeps stretching out and out and away suddenly seems closer.    And despite myself and my patterns of bolting, of staring into the future and considering exit strategies for all possibilities I see before me, despite that I am not scared or nervous.  I am not worried.

I am saddened, bittersweet, because what I found I have to leave behind.

I may never come back to Norway.  I may never see the blue-violet-orange sky again or watch the not-sunset.  I may never slip on this particular ice again or walk through this range of precipitation.  I may never breathe this air, or gaze at these ferries and make up stories for their travelers.  I may never wander in the woods and try to decide which green hue is my favorite.

But I know, now, that it is here.  That even mine- the most wayfaring of souls- has a mate.  The place is perfect.

But the knowledge is enough.

And until next time… if you don't hear much from me… Does anyone know how to say 'Bail' or 'Extradition' in Latvian?