9 years in Sweden & the winds of change

Nine years ago I sold all my furniture. I threw or gave away as many pieces of clothing as possible, and put the rest in boxes, except for what I could fit in two suitcases. I wrapped all my dishes up carefully, putting extra paper towels around my favorite mugs, pretty sad I couldn't bring them. I sorted and packed all the many photos I'd had pinned up everywhere and slipped a couple dozen into the suitcases. I'd thrown a goodbye party a few days before, but one by one my friends came by to give a private, often more emotional, farewell. I drove with a full car out of Santa Barbara, crying in the dark, up to the San Francisco area for family goodbyes and storage errands. Shortly after that, I was on a plane, looking down at an expanse of forest, and preparing to land while listening to the 8 minute Tiesto & Jonsi song I'd been playing for a year while envisioning that exact moment, but finally living it (dork). Then, nine years ago today, I finally arrived in Sweden. And I've pretty much been here ever since. It's hard to comprehend.

                                                          Summer 2010, Sweden

But in a few weeks, I'll be doing all this all over again. Though it'll be that forest I'm flying away from, and the deep blue Pacific ocean I'll be landing next to. I'm moving to California.
That's an extremely weird sentence to type. Can't really comprehend this, either.
Two important things to say about it before anything else, though:

It's not forever.
It's for an amazing reason, but not something I initiated: my boyfriend got offered a dream job there, so we're going together.

The story is that Joakim recently finished his PhD, working with creating renewable materials from wood, to replace plastic. He's gotten to know people from various research institute and universities around the world over the years, including one fellow working with adjacent research at UC Berkeley. And a couple months ago, this guy called him up and offered him a research position at his lab there. Just, like, boom. I had nothing to do with this process or his interest in that scientist, but the whole thing seemed to be somehow manifested from my wistful imagination.

I've never made plans to move away from Sweden. Even when it's been hard, I always knew that this is where I belonged, right now. But I did often fantasize about having a partner whose job might allow them to work in California at some point in their career. And sometimes when meandering around San Francisco streets on my visits back, I'd marvel at the alternate life I might have if I lived there. It was hard to think of never living in California again. But I've not wanted to leave Stockholm. Sweden is home. 

Then this serendipitous new adventure came up, and the answer to it was always yes, of course. I had to think about it but I knew it was yes. The plan could hardly be more awesome; if you know anything about Berkeley, you'll know it's gonna be a great fit for us. It's funky and interesting and beautiful and quite different from just 30 minutes away where I grew up, so there's plenty to discover even though it will be a bit familiar. Just minutes from San Francisco but much better weather. I'll be close to family, for the first time since I was 17 and moved to Santa Barbara for university, and there will also be dear friends in and around SF, ready to welcome us for our extended stay. 

But though the answer about whether to go was obvious, the emotions have been complicated. I'm anxious and sad. I love my apartment, I don't want to leave my neighborhood, I don't want to miss the late October leaves, I don't want to not be here in general! I'm racked with guilt about "leaving" my friends here, just like I "left" my California friends nine years ago. I think about how I hate when friends move away, it leaves a little aching empty spot in my life; and wonder how I could do that to people again? Then I get anxious about my place in my friends' lives here, maybe I won't be missed, I'll be just another foreign friend who eventually moved away. I'll become to them what I did to my friends in Santa Barbara; eventually a visiting friend, not a daily friend. Then I try to snap back into a less emo, more pragmatic perspective; maybe it's no big deal, plenty of friends have moved abroad for a year or so work assignment, and they slot right back in. But then I spin back into my sadness again... how will it feel to be away? To be back? 

Yep, that's been my wild, worried, dreaming summer heart. I've avoided talking about it mostly, but I guess I'm ready now. I'm really lucky. So much unknown still, but it will be so great. Me and the beach, back together again. 

This is the official announcement. But to you here in Sweden who already know about this, my friends, my chosen family. I haven't been able to deal with your feelings, I've been pushing them away. But I hope you understand how I feel about you, about this city, this land. You who whisper urgently in Joakim's ear, "please bring her back!!" You who grab me in the middle of running around at a festival and exclaim, despite me trying to stop you, "Oh no... I will miss you so much!" You who text me that you officially disapprove of this plan and put thumbs down emojis on anything that comes up about it. You who wrap your arms around me by the dj booth at sunset and say "you know nothing will change, right? you know that?" You who guilt trip me into another shared bottle of wine and more dancing cause "we don't know what future summers hold." 

You all... you know how people remark on how much I love Sweden, that some even say I help them love Sweden more. I want you to know, for whatever it's worth, that I don't even feel anymore, after these nine years, that 'loving Sweden' describes me really. It's like with any soulmate: we are one. I don't know where Sweden ends and I begin. I won't be away forever, and I won't even really be gone. 

When Toni Morrison died a few days ago and I was reminding myself of her writing, I stumbled upon this quote from her, and though I didn't know what scuppernong wine was, I felt this deeply:

"And I am all the things I have ever loved: scuppernong wine, cool baptisms in silent water, dream books and number playing."

I am sunlight at 11 pm. I am -4° celsius with snow underfoot and a blue sunny sky. I am fried herring with lingonberry jam. I am late night conversations on the upstairs patio of Trädgården. I am the view of Södermalm that you see when you take the subway from Gamla Stan to Slussen. I am singing drinking songs during holiday dinners. I am a smooth boulder that slopes into the Baltic Sea next to a pine forest. I'm not Acne style, I'm not Melodifestivalen and I'm definitely not black licorice. But so much of everything else... it's me.

                                          Summer 2019, Sweden

So, as I always say when I take a trip to California: Sweden, please don't have any fun at all while I'm gone. Also, there's a guest bed waiting for you at our little spot in the Berkeley hills.

California, girl, I'm coming for you. Oh how I've ached for you. Let's do all the things.

Hope you all want to follow along with me on this next adventure. Stay tuned. Så jävla konstigt att jag kommer bo i USA snart! Puss och kram!