To Sogndal, and Beyond

As I watched the city of Bergen, Norway fade into the background on October 1, 2019, I felt a profound sense of melancholy. This was an unexpected mood for my departure, given I had just completed what would eventually prove to be the single most transformative experience of my lifetime. But back home—at the time, in Washginton, D.C.—I suspected that my arrival might be greeted by a series of events that promised to upend my life as I knew it.

These fears eventually proved true. Not 24 hours after stepping foot back onto American soil, my then-partner and I mutually decided that it was best for us to part ways. Any lingering euphoria from my time in Norway quickly evaporated. Not only was my immediate future thrown into chaos, but also—more relevantly to this blog—any opportunity I would normally take to process and relive the wonderful memories I’d made upon returning from a life-changing experience was lost. Because of the whirlwind of life that ensued and the unwelcome trespass of adulthood, I never really got to share my experiences with anybody—which only deepens my sense of gratitude for having written this blog, and redoubles my motivation this time around.

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It is a bit surreal to me that, in 12 hours, I will embark on a return trip that—okay, yes, probably isn’t that surprising to anyone who knows my family, but one that was certainly never a given. (I may have thought my woes on October 2, 2019 were the worst things I could ever experience. COVID-19, arriving a cruel five months later, had other ideas.) As I packed my suitcase with many of the same items I brought the first time (repetition brings me comfort), I was overwhelmed with so much appreciation: to those whose generosity and flexibility have allowed this to even happen; to the Norwegian family and friends who will undoubtedly make space, time and energy for us in the coming weeks; and, perhaps most of all, to my parents for continuing to make these dreams into realities.

On that note, I would be remiss not to mention a note of bittersweetness that has marked the beginning of the trip. My mom, Cindy—who is likely reading this and wishing I were slightly less verbose and more selective with my use of commas—had to withdraw from joining this trip shortly before it began for personal reasons I won’t expand on here. I am only who I am because of my mom. Those who know her, and know me, know that. I will deeply miss her company and her laughter on this journey, but, Mom: know that we cannot wait to share stories and memories with you. We will miss you.

My current mixture of emotions is a tricky cocktail: big on excitement, a dash of unease, and a whisper of trepidation. (That’s for you, Lionheart.) I am so curious to see where this trip takes me and am looking forward to sharing my thoughts here. You ready, Papa?

Writer’s Note: This blog is and will always be for me, as a record–my memory has proven it intends only to get worse from here forward. That being said, I am delighted to know so many from all over are reading it and perhaps even enjoying it. I deeply appreciate every minute of time taken interacting with my little blog and hope that it brings you even the smallest joy. Truly—thank you.