Fingerprints - Soul prints

Insomnia, the state I have been living lately, a few hours of sleep and then around 3:00 waking up to think about all and nothing, about people I know and people I don't. About the changes happening in my life and my inability to see pass the next week, what is happening or what am I supposed to do.

I have now moved all my furniture, and are camping on a guest mattress in my living room, in the empty space that for eight years was my post-divorced haven. The place I learned to sleep alone in the dark, the place I learned to be alone and like my own company.

It is 5:29 AM right now and I can see the first light and the colors of dawn, how beautiful they are. I have seldom allowed myself to experience the early morning, first because I am not an early bird, secondly, because my bedroom was on the first floor and the views from this place are from the second floor. Although the views are not spectacular, the view of the sky is grand from the eight windows in the living space on the second floor and it always gave me a sense of freedom. 

Fingerprints of love

This was not just a flat I rented, here I saw my son grow up, from a three-year-old boy to a more independent ten year old boy. We have had so many wonderful times here; we have shed many tears as well. However, the space means nothing if not lived with love and love is what that boy and I had to make it through the happy and patchy years, years he mostly was unaware of the troubling waters, for I have tried as much as I have been able to do so, to always keep his neck above the water. He is older now and more aware, he wants to be informed and included in the decisions, his opinion matters in the direction of our lives, he is always first in my list of priorities, priorities based on love and at times just on ethics.

I am sitting on the floor, looking how the light increases while I write my last words to our home. I am smiling at the sight of the left side window, full of my son's fingerprints. Every afternoon as I arrived home from work, he would hear my steps on the gravel, and he would run to the window and open it wide to greet me, just as I used to run down the stairs at my parents’ home, excited at the arrival of my mother or father from their working days. 

Through the window next to my desk, on the left side,  I can see the housing complex  (borettslag), where my old home and my ex's home is, and where I am temporarily staying for a few months while the work situation improves in the area. 

Further pass the housing area, there is a beautiful big tree, the object of my sight when I sat down at my desk facing the two windows of my life. The one of real life and the one in my computer, venturing further outside those windows, have randomly led me through the years to the company of some extraordinary people, who directly or indirectly regardless of the length they have stayed, have contributed to a journey slightly less lonesome in the foreign land.

All I need to take with me from our time here is the soul prints, for all other circumstances can change fast and things we think that sustain what makes sense can vanish, and maybe, just maybe, letting go is as they say letting God.

Time will tell.

From Austbøveine 16D, Hundvåg. 24.08.15