Prologue – New Beginnings

The house had finally sold. After months of showings and negotiations, we closed, accepting the offer of a mean spirited woman who wanted the house so she could live closer to her daughter––I often wondered how her daughter felt about those plans. We would later find out that the buyer, whose name I believe was Rose, had demolished the house and abandoned the property leaving the gaping footprint of the foundation exposed, a hole in the ground eventually covered with weeds and vines.

Along with the sale of the house was also the sale of my car, nearly an entire library of books, and most of my personal possessions. There had been months of separating and organizing what could be thrown away, sold, or kept. I was preparing to move to Sweden. 

***

I am somewhere over the Atlantic between Boston and London and so tired my body is trembling. Seated in business class, all I want is to close my eyes and sleep the entire way to Europe. 

It’s a big deal to sell the place you called home for 20 years. The place you raised your kids, laughed, cried, celebrated, and found peace from the daily grind. But I was very angry at the house on Hammock Road in Westbrook, Connecticut. Over the years it had proven to be a handful, always needing a repair of some sort––major and minor––and me responsible for getting it all done. Being a single mom and a homeowner was one hell of a challenge. 

My two sons had both graduated high school. My oldest, David, moved to Philadelphia with his best friend; and my youngest son, Kyler, was happily residing in Boston. I had enjoyed being an empty nester for three years and at times while contemplating or preparing to move to Sweden to be with my fiancé, I had to admit, I questioned my decision. I loved living alone. I loved the freedom and independence it brought. But I also loved a man in Gothenburg and the idea of having a partner to enjoy the rest of my days with was inviting.

What would my new life look like? It was exciting, romantic, and some thought very glamorous. To live in a foreign city was a lifelong dream for me. An opportunity to learn a new culture, a new language, meet new people, and to travel to all those destinations my fiancé and I had spoken of together. 

He had been living in the same condo in Hisingsbacka, just outside of Gothenburg, for the entire 16 years I knew him. It was, in fact, officially his mom’s place but that is where we would set up housekeeping until we decided whether or not to purchase another home or apartment for ourselves. 

“Shall I start looking for a place for the two of us,” he asked. “I think it might be nice for us to have our own place, Babe. That way you won’t feel like you are moving in to my apartment. The new apartment would be ours.”

It was thoughtful expressions such as this that made me love him. 

***

After a three hour layover in Heathrow, the landing gear touched ground at Gothenburg’s Landvetter Airport. Tapani and his brother were picking me up at the airport and as I exited baggage claim there they were waiting at the arrivals gate, Tapi looking nervous and yet excited, a bottle of cold water and a bouquet of flowers in his arms.

We ate summer strawberries and drank champagne in the car on the ride home. Chatting excitedly about the flight and upcoming plans for midsummer celebrations that weekend.

“I don’t care how tired or jet-lagged you are, you have to go into the city with me tonight. It’s an experience you have to have,” he said, his eyes shining bright with excitement. Sweden was playing France in the 2012 World Cup and the whole country would be watching. Gothenburg had big plans for the game with outdoor venues set up for viewing. Drinking would, of course, be a priority. Cheering on Sweden, with the Swedes, would be fun. My first Swedish experience.

***

The guys carried my over-packed suitcases up the three sets of spiral staircases leading to our third floor apartment. I had never been one to define myself based on the man in my life but it felt good to have a partner to help face the difficulties of reality, to not have to do everything on my own. It felt reassuring to live in a country where I could enjoy social benefits such as medical insurance and to perhaps even be able to retire. Survival in the US, to thrive and grow there, was hard. As a 50 year old woman, I was looking forward to an easier and more secure lifestyle. 

“What a beautiful time to arrive in Sweden. Midsommar celebrations, World Cup, and you and me.” I said turning to my fiancé. 

“You are safe now.” he said, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

Little did I know, I had never been in such danger.