Soft Landing

I was rummaging in my pack when I heard him fall. Tante Ase flew out from the living room at the sound. Rapid Norwegian phrases quickly took the place of English and she began shouting orders. I blinked back, wide-eyed. Finally she managed,
“Call Aiden! Call Aiden!” (She never did get the hang of “Arden”)
I ran to the door way and yelled at Arden sitting in the front yard.
“Uncle Olav has hurt himself, come quick!” I returned indoors to find Uncle Olav now sitting upright in the doorway to the bathroom, a large cut on his head and Tante Ase weeping at his side and holding Kleenex to his wound. Arden scooted around me to help Uncle Olav get back on his feet and maneuvered over to a chair near the door. He kept pressure on the wound while I bounded upstairs to notify their daughter-in-law. Uncle Olav sat alert, but trembling.

Our stay in Sandnes with my Great-Aunt and Uncle showed me what love after sixty years looks like. It taught me what it means to grow old gracefully and with the brightest outlook on the future. I saw the raw fear one feels when a loved one’s body ages faster than their heart and soul. It taught me to love deeply everyday.


M said…
Erika, if you ever write a book, I want to buy it. You write so beautifully; it's a joy to read. Meanwhile I content myself with your lovely blog. :)
Theresa said…
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Theresa said…
I agree! Erika, that is beautiful. Your blog always stirs my little red heart!
Nicole said…
I also agree too Erika. I am captivated by the words you use and the photos you take. You have such a creative and beautiful mind sweet sister!

Love ya!