The Tub

I’ve already gotten used to seeing “August” in my calendar, but there’s one thing I’m still not used to; the tiny tiny knot in my stomach, and the slight rush of stress hormones flushing through my veins when I realize what that means.

It means another summer has passed — another wonderful summer spent together with my beloved family and friends has come to an end.

The long Scandinavian nights, peaceful dinners, and evenings of joyful conversation created a hint of the carefree existence that belongs only to childhood, but the responsibilities of being an adult are calling my name.

Every August I have to step out of this warm bath called summer vacation at home, and onto the cold bathroom floor of adulthood.

Deep inside I know that the discomfort of wet hair and cool air will only be temporary, and that I’ll soon adjust to life outside the tub, but August hits a special spot in my gut, regardless.

I’ve lived most of my adult life in the US. I’ve hugged my parents at the airport with a ticket to the US in my pocket nine times. I’ve flown west across the Atlantic with my belongings condensed into a suitcase nine times. And I’ve left the safe and familiar behind in return for new adventures … nine times.

This is what I do, what I have to do, and what I want to do, but stepping out of the warmth and comfort is a challenge every year.

However, I believe God has a special plan for this year and I’m excited to see what it is, so I better step out of this bathtub and get dressed.

See you in New York!

 

– Maria


Photo: Rannveig Froestad.

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