Between Two Worlds - A Weekend Apart November 12, 2023
I'm sitting here in the old home on the sofa, waiting for Michael to come back. He spent this weekend in the new home together with Heinz. I used the time to clear out the barn. Well, at least I got started on it. But I've actually made quite a bit of progress. I had some people come by who bought various things or took items as gifts, and now they're gone. It's becoming empty and that's a good thing.
Today Michael took everything he needs for music—all his instruments and everything he wanted to bring along for his work as a musician—to Denmark with Heinz. They've already built all the shelves and filled them. It was a huge job, and it was good that I wasn't there. I would have just been in the way. It was a real guy thing, and I had plenty to do here too. It was also good for the dog and the cats that things ran somewhat normally and I just had a bit more time.
That said, I did spend a couple of hours with Karin, and that did me good. Because once we no longer live here, those kinds of things won't be possible anymore. Girls' nights. I don't have any friends in Denmark yet.
It feels strange when the house here slowly becomes emptier while at the same time our Danish home is gradually being filled. A part of me is always there, even when I'm physically here. I imagine Michael and Heinz building the shelves, the music corner taking shape, how the light falls through the windows and fills the room.
Ebbi seems to sense that something is changing. He lies next to me on the sofa, his head on my lap, and looks up at me with his faithful eyes. The cats spent the whole day outside today—maybe they're enjoying the familiar surroundings while they still can.
The thought that soon spontaneous visits to Karin won't be possible anymore makes me a little melancholy. These familiar rituals, the laughter in the kitchen, a glass of wine in the evening—I'll miss all of that. But I also know that new friendships are waiting. It takes time, but it will happen.
When I close my eyes, I hear the sea, which isn't far from our Danish house. I feel the fresh breeze and smell the salty air. That feeling of freedom, of a new beginning—that's what we're doing all this for.
The barn is already much emptier now, and with each part that goes, the goodbye becomes more tangible. But it feels right. Like a butterfly leaving its cocoon so it can finally fly.
In a few hours Michael will be back. With new stories, with progress, with another step toward our shared dream. And while I wait for him, I'm already mentally packing the next box.
