even though it is winter, this place reminds me of the night of my wedding. It was late summer then. 2008. We drank champagne late into the night except for Göran (he drank only milk). At nearly midnight, he sped up to the farm on his four-wheeler to collect us all. The sun had not set (it barely does in the summertime). We rode in a wooden cart he pulled behind the four-wheeler laughing and rolling drunk with wine and happiness. We could have walked, but the ride was an adventure and tied us together forever. And, when we arrived, we stripped down naked even Lizzy, well into her eighties, and dived into the icy water. The water is icy even in summer here, and our joy echoed across the lake and throughout the village. We will be together forever in that moment. Nothing. Not time. Not circumstance. Not anything that came after. Nothing will break us apart in that moment. Now I dip my booted, stockinged foot into the lake. It has not frozen over yet, but that will soon come. Still the memory hits me like a jolt of electricity connecting me directly to that distant evening. Memory is strong like that.
