I have had one of those great saturdays you only have once in a while.
I met up with C and Jeanette for lunch before setting off to an art exhibition.
Johan Bavman has photographed albino's in Tanzania. The photos were moving and heart breaking. It was devastating to find out that since January of 2008 almost 30 albinos have been slaughtered in Tanzania. The murders are a result of extreme poverty and ancient superstition. Owning albino body parts are said to bring luck and fortune.
After seeing the photos C felt inspired and hungry for some more culture so we wandered down to our local art gallery to have a look at the present exhibition.
I havent been to the gallery since high school and remember it as forced visits as part of the art classes.
I dont know what the weekends used to be like back then, but today it seemed like the gallery was the trendy hang out for families with children.
I counted at least 12 pushchairs and buggies and the cafe was cramped by mothers with their babies draped face down on their arms, like Paris Hiltons dog Tinkerbell.
The room smelled like the school canteen and I realised everyone was eating beetroot soup.
Very bohemic, and too weird for my own shallow(?) brain to understand.
As me and Jeanette walked around the big hall I established that this gallery would never host an exhibition like Charlotte's gallery in SATC.
I really am trying to "widen my horizon" a bit and not be so "blond" about things anymore.
But I just dont see the beauty of two irons with a slice of toast in between.
I cant find an upside down television showing us visitors "walking on the ceiling" as fascinating as one girl who was kneeling on the floor infront of the screen for at least half an hour.
Me and Jeanette silently wondered if everyone here were people who, if asked to describe themselves with five words would say: "Thinker, difficult, dark, deep and questioning"
Some people are proud to say that they are "difficult" people....I really dont know why...
After some discussion about what the exhibition was actually about, C invited us back to hers for a cup of tea.
Walking back, I stated that there was a house ahead of us that I really like, I think it looks lovely and I'm convinced the flats are beautiful.
Jeanette and C thought I was joking, because they thought the house was hideous, but we laughed so much about it and I got a rush of happiness flowing over me.
I have thought about this before but again I was hit with the feeling of how great my friends here are and how happy and sometimes awestruck I am that they have just opened up to fit me into their everyday lives.
It makes me realise that it was the right decission for me to move home.
There are certain people in England who I miss terribly and I hate not being able to see them everyday. But I feel blessed that I have lived abroad and made friends who I will keep close to my heart forever, at the same time as I have kept and rekindled some of my friendships here in Sweden.
Sitting in the huge armchair in C's flat sipping hot tea, we talked about our woes and worries and I realised that even though I havent been a part of these girls lives for 15 odd years, I still feel like I have and that they are not intentionally keeping parts of their lives from me.
I am as big a part of the group as they are and feel loved and happy.
Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong.
Francesca Reigler
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