Nostalgia

I'm still in Norway, but I'm not, in psychobabble terms, "fully present." My mind is already in November, in the new house, in my new car, with my old friends, back in my "real life." Every day I tick one more task off the massive list of things to do before we move--today I went to the vet clinic and got the pets' rabies certificates to add to their growing folders of health records. Later, I might start shredding all the newspaper to line their crates, or I might try to purge my closets of a few more things I don't want to bring to the U.S. (Or I might hang out on the couch watching DVDs--Kevin bought me the complete "Ally McBeal" set when he was in China last month and I can't wait to watch all the neurosis!) Even though I'm eagerly moving on, every once in a while I feel a twinge of sadness about leaving. There were three magpies hopping around in the yard this afternoon. I love seeing those dapper, glossy, black and white birds, but they are not found in New York. Neither are hedgehogs (not that I have actually ever seen any here, but every evening I know that there is the potential to spot one waddling along). While there are moose in New York, they don't live in the area where we will be living--I could see one if we go up into the Adirondacks, but I'm never going to look out my window and see one (or three) munching on the trees in my back yard like I was able to here. There are so many other little things about life in Norway which I will miss--the candles that appear outside of open businesses as the daylight wanes, the fresh waffle stands in the streets, the tiny, sweet, juicy Norwegian strawberries, the lit ski trail that winds past our house, the white bark of all the birch trees (even though I'm crazy-allergic to them, they are really pretty). Anyway, I'm definitely elated to be moving back home, but among the feelings of joy and anticipation there are daily reminders of everything I will miss.