Marry Sweden
The child on the train wants my attention, while I strive for that of the woods and lakes that fly past my side. Again the foreigner. No longer for my skin but for my unknowing look, my lack of confidence, my funny hair and again I realise how important verbal communication is, I’m desperate to try and learn all over. Nostalgia for foreign lands fills me again, for new smells and sights and tastes.
I arrive, bathed in sun, to where the bride and groom are waiting for me, as giddy as when I first saw them together. There’s a buzz of joy and mania in their speech and actions, it excites me.
Then I see the castle… I feel as light as if gravity has evacuated me and the strings have been cut.
The next few days are of incredible family, disjointed in every way and yet closer than if they were joined, as if they tessellated better this way.
Feasting and time, so much rich time spent in the sun and woods and lakes, walking in carpet soft grass.
the big day comes, people fritter in and two days of polka dot dresses, skinny suits, singing, dancing, tributes, speeches, so much food. Children bubble around and there are so many more familiar people than I expected.
The bride and groom farewell away, dancing out the room and onto their own private party and the other foreigner and i are swept up by the girl in a polka dot dress, matching hairclips, bag, shoes, etc. to go and stay at her and her husband’s house. I can say no more except she was an ace girl and that I realised that things aren’t always as they appear to be.
