The simple life.

Yesterday I spent with Irene, my dad's sister. We had a lovely day in around Varmdö, the same island Eva-Mi and Henrik live on. After having the exact same lunch we'd had when I spent a day with her three years ago - shrimp omelet with asparagus and knackebröd on the side - we walked down to the water and I found a nice little alcove on a rock, sheltered from the wind, to sit and read. I've been reading "The Girl Who Fell From the Sky"and yesterday, in utter silence apart from the lapping of waves on the shore, I finished the book. (I highly recommend it.) Then, after chatting some more, we ate dinner at the same restaurant we ate at in 2009. Flashbacks abound.

Förratt (appetizer): salmon with avocado, mango and cashews. Very grown-up.

Main course: Swedish pancakes off the kid's menu. Hehe.

Last night was the finale of Eurovision, the European song contest, and Sweden's Loreen won with her song, "Euphoria." We could hear the neighbors singing it outside after the winner had been declared. Apparently Eurovision's kind of a big deal? Who knew?

Maybe it's because of the strong memories I have here, maybe it's because of the low-key lifestyle, or maybe I just need to let myself be a little immature before I go off to France on my own, but I have found myself thinking like a child in Sweden.

On the boat, the hours disappear, and I let my imagination wander. I wonder what all of those people in all of those red houses are doing. I imagine that the world is upside-down and we are sailing in the wave-filled sky. I imagine that I am a frog, hopping from island to island. I fantasize about the future.

At this point in my life, I maybe should be more concerned about what I'm going to do with my life. Yet I have never been one to worry about that kind of thing, but rather sort of expect that all will work out. Naïve, perhaps, but true. I have the rest of my life to be practical and only so much time where I am solely responsible for myself and beholden to no one. I can afford to be idealistic. I order off the kid's menu. I read books that are pleasurable. I let my hands touch the soft leaves of plants as I walk by, embracing the light as it streaks through the trees onto the pine-needle-littered forest floor. Call it my way of stopping to smell the roses.

Am I ready to grow up? Perhaps. But I still cling to the scraps of childhood that have been such an integral ingredient in my optimistic outlook. It puts things into perspective. If you can't appreciate the small things, how can you make the big things matter?

Off to do yoga on a rock. Until we meet again.