Fatherland

You locked us up!

You locked me up! And my brother, he’s younger you know. Oh yeah and my mum, too.

For weeks and weeks, while you were busy elsewhere. 

After we had been in there a bit my mum stopped working.

Some weeks from that I stopped missing my friends so much.

You told us nothing but to stay in there.

My brother is not as old as me, you know. He can’t do what I can. And he doesn’t want to, so he fights my mum.

I fight him and her, and then we can do what we want for a while but somehow it hurts. 

While you were busy elsewhere, we were less and less busy in there. 

You were doing important things every day and telling my parents about it every night. 

But you talked only of other people. 

My mum held my brother, and fought the school people, then one day she stopped teaching my brother. On the TV you talked about everyone else. 

Those who were having a hard time with the whole virus thing that is going on.

Healing yet?

Not yet.

Less angry maybe at State & Life, more angry probably at wild children rubbing sand down each other’s necks. We have to drive back in a car! A car! For people!

Bringing kids out of a long lockdown is honestly proving more complicated than keeping them there, which was very hard.

Things are hard.

We wrestle by the main street.

We air our grievances in the summer house.

I sob in the bakery. Wearing a friggin double cotton mask and some ridiculously huge see-through gloves. Like some inadequately equipped builder. Desperate for a break from a never-ending, payless shift at the world’s most beautiful AND COMPLICATED building site.

After seven in the evening, I threaten sand-coated people in the beach shower. People who suddenly seem to have lost all ability to compromise. We are the three uncompromising beach goers on empty stretches of waves and seashells and millions of grains of sand that want to come home with us.

I wouldn’t call this healing.

Maybe shared, love-based suffering in glorious natural surroundings?

I’m Going, You Stay!

That’s what I burst out to and left. Furious, with bags, and keys and grievances, I left for our family weekend at our summer place – all alone.

It’s fair to say that these Corona Avoidance months in Cyprus have not been my personal best.

Just today, who was that?

I’ve thought about it here, surrounded by frowning swimming toys and their silent accusations.

So, there is a bit of anger.

What to do with it now that we are free again?

Corona Kids

How will you remember all this?

All those germs you couldn’t see

Classmates looking dazed on their screens

Your teacher saying he loves you all

Little vampires at night

Too much of what you wanted

Let’s wait until they pass

I am too tired now to talk my love

Making money

Painting on the roof

Don’t touch ANYTHING

Cats darting through doors

The quiet

All those people out there, trying to get back home

Home

Scenes from Home

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“How dare they! How dare they! They have no idea what it’s like to have kids holed up in an apartment! How old are these men? What makes them think they can do this to us?”

“Babe. You’re in denial.”

“I am not in denial! This is nuts! Such overkill I never saw in my life! What about mothers? What about our jobs? Who is going to do our jobs, and what will happen to the country if we suddenly just stop working? They think oh those women, what work do they do anyway. It’s what they are for, to care for their kids anytime, all the time, always there, no problem, just shove this on them. We are going to be in here for six and a half weeks. Six and a half weeks!”

“This thing is dangerous. Seen what’s going on in Italy? We are a small country. We don’t have the capacity for that.”

“How many cases have you guys got? How many?”

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“We just got to hunker down for two weeks, dear. The borders are closing now and this thing will peak in two weeks. You will call me, I will call you. Then it will get easier.”

“That does make sense. That does make me feel a bit better actually. Thanks.”

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“The sun is in my eyes! I want my cap!”

“Darling, you can’t put a cap on a bicycle helmet. I brought you sunglasses! Look, love.”

“They are too big! They fall off! It’s too bright!”

“They are just fine, love. Look, I’ll put them under here. No way they can fall off now.”

“They make me dizzy! I can’t see! Why didn’t you bring me a cap!”

“We aren’t going back for a cap now, so please quit whining. Isn’t it nice to be outside?”

“Not nice! Useless! These stupid glasses make so dizzy! They are useless! You are useless, do you hear me! Mama!”

“Okay take them off then, love, and let’s carry on. And that hurt my feelings.”

“Haha! Good! You hurt my feelings with this stupid brightness!”

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“X just tested positive for coronavirus.”

“How is he?”

“He’s okay. So far so good.”

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“Do you know what this thing can do to our family if you keep going around? Do you think I will make it if I catch it? And what about you? We can’t die! They need me! They need… me.”

“I’m so careful. And there’s nearly no-one there anymore. The doors are all open so we don’t have to touch them at all. I clean my hands all the time.”

“I’m going to put my mattress on the floor!”

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“Mama, is there coronavirus in Finland?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Are Mummu and Vaari going to catch it?”

“No love, I don’t think so. They only go out to go to the woods and run after birds with cameras, don’t they? They just sit at home or go bird watching. You can’t catch it if you don’t see anyone.”

Lessons Not Learned in 2019

In 2019 I figured out I need to grow up a little bit – become stronger as my own person.

Such a wonderful opportunity for growth! Which I am fighting like my 3-month-old kitten fights his rattly mouse: in vain. The mouse keeps on rattling. I keep on trying to lean on another person. Who is putting on their suit jacket.

I need to find a strong core within and feel calm at all times. Calm and confident that I can do this, regardless of if it’s just me or not! Work, kids, kittens, home, plans, tickets, sheets, friends, hobbies and health – Just Do It! Just get doin’! Do, do, do!

And I do…

But no-one said I have to like it!

For Laura

Babies seem to come with a spell that is able to stop time. Everything that is anything in a 38-year-old visitor’s life melts away instantly when meeting someone three weeks of age.

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Young babies and young parents seem to live in a timeless bubble of their own. Weekdays or weekends don’t matter, night and day come at the same time and continents easily and effortlessly switch places around them. For a new family, only this moment exists, this moment and what it’s made of.

The parents live only for the baby – and the baby lives because of Mum and Dad. She lives their joy and their tiredness, their heartbeats and the smell of their hair. She lives their warm voices and stroking hands. She feels sudden, frightening bursts of hunger and a content happiness at being cuddled and fed and loved like no-one ever was. Warm baths briefly remind her of something – but she’s with us now, she’s here!

This is her life today, tomorrow it will be a little larger. Tomorrow and every day, until one day she’s 38 and visits someone else’s wonderful baby bubble for an hour or two. To sit and talk and admire, on a spring-time work trip to a beautiful capital somewhere maybe.

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Blue and White

I had an aunt who wasn’t related to me at all. She lived a couple of floors below us when I was a baby. Her son slept over at ours sometimes, drew cartoons and built houses in the woods with my brother.

After they left town, this aunt never slipped out of touch for long. Not with my parents. And not with me, either.

Come to think of it, she was the only person outside my own family who knew me my whole life.

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I grew up, moved cities. Felt restless, toured the continent. She was interested in where I was and how I was. I calmed down, got married, babtised my kids; she booked plane tickets and brought presents.

This talented and spirited woman, this wonderful Finnish aunt as a young restless one herself had toured Cyprus, singing in tavernas. She was really pleased with my choice of a husband. So she painted us a picture of two Greek lovers and carefully wrote wedding verse in Greek. Blue and white. White and blue.

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In my childish entitlement, it never crossed my mind that she might one day die.

That day arrived last week.

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I now have a new brother. A brother from another mother! Not related but dear in any case.

I so wish his sadness lets light in one day.

White and blue.

Blue and light.

These are for him, from his childhood and ours:

 

 

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Something Borrowed

His name is Bruno and he was home alone today.

So we could borrow him!

The park was a lush green paradise of birdsong and sunshine filtered through a million leaves.

Bruno enjoyed the smell aspects of it.

And some womanising. Oh dear!

Cyprus is so gorgeous!

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And apparently, smells fabulous too.

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