I left a piece of myself in Gothenburg,
and I couldn’t find it in the signs at Heathrow.
Nothing was written in beautiful Swedish,
just in the boring English I already know.
I tried to bring pieces of Gothenburg home –
a backpack full of Kex bars and Ballerina biscuits;
a blue and yellow t-shirt; socks declaring
‘I heart Sweden’; novelty fridge magnets.
But the soft toy moose on the refrigerator
reminds me that sometimes you’re not moving on
to bigger and better things – sometimes
you’re just plain old moving on.
Because there is nothing bigger and nothing better
than the places you adore,
your passions and the dreams you hold –
they’re what’s worth living for.
So one day I will visit again,
I’ll go back when I’m more fluent.
There’s still so much the city can teach me,
I’ll always be a willing student.
And that’s what I said to the wing of the plane
as I tried not to be sad about leaving,
watching the lush green city getting smaller,
trying so hard to clutch onto Sweden.
I got home from my trip to Gothenburg on Friday. I didn’t want to leave. Coming back to England felt so wrong, and far too early. But it was awesome, and if I were to dedicate this poem to anyone I would dedicate it to Pewdiepie, because his videos inspired me to learn Swedish, and to visit Sweden, and he gave me a whole new passion for learning a language and visiting a new country. I’m so grateful for that. <3 *brofist*
This summer will be five years since I had my sub total colectomy (bowel removal/intestine eviction). So, essentially that will be five years of being cancer-free. I’d quite like to do something to “celebrate” (as much as you can celebrate once having a life-threatening disease). I googled it to get some ideas and there are a lot of sites about it, apparently it’s called a cancerversary, but that sounds a bit weird. I looked up the exact date of my operation, and it was 27th July 2010. Funnily enough, two days ago me and my parents booked a trip to Gothenburg, Sweden (I’m learning Swedish and can’t wait to go). We’re going on our trip on the 27th. Weird, right?
So that’s kind of a celebration. Though I might not want to mention that to my parents, because, awks. Awkward to talk about what happened full stop, but awkward celebrating me being okay when my brother died of cancer. Is that survivor’s guilt?
I don’t know. Plus it’s occurred to me that any thoughts about celebrating six months in advance could be a bit previous. Like tempting fate. So. That makes me feel scared. So, mixed feelings. Happiness, relief, sorrow, guilt, fear, impatience.