Two weeks and counting

As for Sundays goes, this was one of the better ones. I got to spend all afternoon with a really really good old friend of mine. In fact I like to call him my oldest academic friend because we met at my very first academic conference back in 2002 when we were both graduate students let lose in a foreign city with two goals: following as many interesting talks and meeting senior researchers during the day, and having as much fun drinking and partying at night. The latter is what I remember the most, including him and I dancing in a basement disco to the tunes of electronic beat music. This was still three years before he would, at a similar occasion in a different city, reach behind my back and cockily snap open my bra. Just to be silly. Since then we have seen each other once or twice per year, closely following each others parallel life of buying a home, marrying and having children, changing jobs and moving cities (well only me). Opposite me, he is still happily married but he has seen me through ups and downs and been hugely supportive whenever we get to talk. In fact, I remember more than once, me being upset and him hugging me, telling me things would be okay. Not something you find in your average academic colleague. Just today I was reminded how this guy, of all men I know, is one of the most observant guys when it comes to emotions. He noticed I got teary eyed when talking about him being away from his family. He asked and listened attentively to why I got divorced. No judgement, just listening.

We walked through the West Village and SoHo, ending up at my secret sushi place where we got the chef's selection of amazing fish, including mini squid and fried fish bone. I realized how lucky I am having such good friends around the world who know me well, who comfort me when I'm sad that Zoe is not with me. Five weeks more. Just five weeks.  

Loving Stockholm

Days like today I almost love living in Stockholm. It was full of fun, sun and good company. Zoe and I woke up and had breakfast on the balcony, and after a bit of play ("Mom come play with me!") we took off to the Nordic Museum. I thought Zoe would appreciate taking the boat there but after explaining it was a bit of a walk to the boat she insisted on going with the tram. Which, it turned out, she had no idea what was because she asked for it when we were on it. I had been to the Nordic Museum once before when Zoe was two months and slept through my enjoyment of an educating exhibition about plastics, and I nursed her among 18th century Swedish table settings. But it turned out that the museum had a play room which could not fit Zoe better: It was a downscaled model of everyday village life settings from the 19th century: a mini grocery store with a large counter, a scale and 'products' (wooden blocks with stickers on); a small 'river' with a bridge and boat, and then the best part: A house with kitchen, dining table, alcove bed and a cradle with a doll in. Everything was Zoe sized but still big enough for me to fit. And everything could be touched, moved, played with.

As Zoe went to the store buying food, came back and made the table and pretended to eat, I thought about how impressed I would have been with this as a kid, getting to play with something like this. I loved playing house and I loved the concept of 'old days', I probably wouldn't have left this place ever again.  So instead of pulling out my mobile phone and check the essential news and social media, I played with Zoe. For an hour.

After lunch at the museum (which has a nice restaurant) and a short discussion with Zoe about where she should take her nap (I voted for her stroller, she voted for my lap), we walked towards the park where we were meeting my friend and her daughter who is half a year younger than Zoe. We managed to have a girlfriend chat about all and nothing before the girls woke up and then they were running around in the sun for hours in the playground. At one point Zoe ran away and I lost track of her. It was only my friend who saw her in the distance where she was heading towards a large play rock and I had to run over there and have a serious chat with her. She was not suppose to run this far away without telling me, how could she find me again? In fact I know that if my friend hadn't seen her, I would have panicked and not known what to do. One thing is losing her in Ikea, another thing is to lose her in a park.

Zoe pretending the water is not cold

The park also had a large paddling pool that the girls went into, splashing and squeaking of joy when the cold water hit their stomach and shoulders. Zoe slipped on some wet rocks and cut her foot a bit so I had to carry her over to the bench and put clothes on her little shaking cold body but she was in good spirit. We then went for sushi at the sushi restaurant with the high bench in the window and the Zoe letter on the window. We talked about her upcoming trip to Scotland with her dad and that she would see her aunt and it would all be fun.

And then I pushed a little tired Zoe over to her dad, who said around 8 words to me (four of them being "say goodbye to mummy") and I left empty hearted and teary eyed. I'll be without her for nine days before she gets back and I can take her for holiday in Denmark. I might have friends and sun in Stockholm, but I still have to share the one thing I care the most about. And that will never be easy, for none of us.

Friends around the world

The other morning when Zoe and I had breakfast as usual, her sitting on the kitchen counter and me standing within reach of my espresso machine she got a bit sad. "Milly", she just said and I knew she was missing her new friend in Paris. Yeah, Emily is in Paris, I said and tried to comfort her. "Far away, Milly far away", Zoe said and I said yes, Zoe you have friends around the world. She then went into naming the long list of her friends, which surprised me not only because it included grandma and my aunt who often looks after her when we are in Copenhagen, but because it was extensive and clear and included people from very different realms or her life. I got tears in my eyes thinking about what I'm doing to my daughter providing her with friends around the world but at the same time keeping her from seeing them regularly.

Today my eyes teared up again when I got an email from a dear friend in the US who we will be staying with for our upcoming trip. Because I got friends around the world too and I tend to forget during the dark and biting cold snowy days in Stockholm where I feel alone in a country I never wanted to live in and in a city where they speak a silly language I'm not good at. My friend reminded me that I am not alone at all. It is a side effect of the semi-nomadic lifestyle I have had since I moved to the US to go to college almost two decades ago. Since then I have not stayed in one country for more than three to four years at a time, and although I have been back and forth, I have not been going back the same place (I have lived in Florida and north and southern California almost equally). But more importantly, a research career like mine fosters friendships across distance, through collaboration and mutual intense conference experiences; some of my closest friends I have never lived in the same country as. The benefit is that I am always welcome places around the world (and I do take advantage of that, vice versa, my friends are *always* welcome at my place) but the downside is that I can't just see them and calling is complicated due to different timezones. Besides, seeing someone is completely different from calling. It means that I sometimes forget that I am valued and loved by these friends who seem so remote. So occasionally I need a reminder.

I also needed a reminder to do something I should have done long time ago: Go to Copenhagen without Zoe *only* to see my friends. Despite all the moving around my three best friends are still in Copenhagen, they simply never left. They have put up with my sporadic calling and demanding social schedule when I am finally there ("I can see you Wednesday between 5pm and 7pm") for 10 plus years. And magically they stuck. I owe them big for that because they are still the girlfriends I turn to when I have a broken heart, when I'm frustrated about work and when I argue with my parents. They are also the first ones I told that I was pregnant with Zoe and they are the first ones to know good news in terms of jobs and big moves. I hope they see me a bit the same way but I also know they have closer friends themselves because distance is complicated. Which is why I feel stupid not having done this before. So in less than two weeks I'll be on a train to Copenhagen without Zoe and I'm already planning each hour of friendship time.