old photo

an old photo of my mormor and her sister. mormor is on the left. i can remember her doing this with her leg when she laughed, the top leg sticking skyward (often even higher than it is here), foot flexed with glee.

i like to recall how she moved through the world physically (as well as spiritually).

i can see her in her later years, in her apartment on john erikssonsgatan in stockholm, moving from the small kitchen table to the sink directly behind her. i sat across from her on the kitchen bench. the way she stood, perhaps somewhat unsteady (though not seeming to notice this herself), and swiftly cleared a plate from the table, barely moving her body, but quickly moving her arm in a fell swoop sort of way. it might make a stranger a bit nervous, like she might easily drop a plate, but it did not make me nervous. i was used to the way she moved.

i know all of my aunts, my mom and my cousins had special relationships with my mormor. she recognized and appreciated each of our unique personalities, talents and interests and forgave us our faults. and she was the person we all got along with. and i think those of us in the family who felt like outsiders at some point or another for our various reasons, all felt like at least she understood us, knew us and shared a closeness with us. what a gift.

the two years i lived in sweden, my mormor’s apartment was my landing spot. i stayed with her when i arrived, when i had vacations, and before i left. i feel lucky to have spent these times with her alone. walking to the store, post office and bank in kungsholmen, eating at her kitchen table, riding the bus and train together to various places. just occupying the same space and time. i was often quiet and she would tell me stories about her childhood and of morfar and their meeting. i like to think (and do think) it was obvious to her how deeply i loved her and morfar and that she knew i loved to hear about them, and that this was why she told me the stories.

it is almost a year now since she died. i think i will be thinking of her a lot this month. a friend told me she feels her grandmother’s presence more and more as time goes on. i hope i feel this way too. i do miss her physical presence though, her laughing foot pointing skyward. her short upper body (which got shorter with age as i imagine mine will someday too) and tall in comparison hips/legs, one hip jutting out more and more as she grew older and shorter, causing a bit of a lilt in her steps.

it's so strange and wonderful how people have such particular to them ways of moving and tones to their voices. even holding someone's hand, people seem to have particular densities or something. particular energy or consistency. spirit perhaps?

(for my cousins and mom. karin and mom, i think you're the only ones who read this...) kan ni inte hora hur hon svarar i telefonen sa varmt, "HEJ pa dig, du {eller ditt namn har}." jag tanker pa detta ibland for att jag kan hora det sa val o det kanns sa valkommande o karleksful. med morfar hor jag hur han svarade pa nagot man sa, "sager du det?" och "jaha, pa det sattet." det ar en till sadan dar daglig fras han anvande som jag brukar komma ihag, men just nu gor jag inte det.

i chose this photo because i haven't taken any new ones this week. i had only planned to write the first paragraph above, as a caption to the photo, but it became a long post instead.

see you tomorrow?