Lilla Jag

1955

November, 1955

The sun slipped below the horizon, casting a breathtaking orange glow across the winter sky. Anni-Frid, now nearing her tenth birthday, boarded the train to Norway with Arntine by her side. Arntine had promised her they would visit Aunt Olive for her birthday. It was a promise Anni-Frid held close to her heart; being with family on such an occasion made her feel connected to her mother in a way that was deeper than just spending it with her mormor—though that too was always cozy.

Settling into her window seat beside Arntine, Anni-Frid gazed quietly out at the snow-covered landscape as it blurred past. She wasn't tense, just lost in her thoughts, filled with anticipation for seeing her aunt. It felt a little like coming home every time she visited Olive, especially because Norway was her family's origin. Knowing her roots mattered to her.

Aunt Olive, with her ever-watchful and caring nature, always greeted Anni-Frid with the same affectionate concern: "Are you eating enough? You're so thin." Olive's voice carried that familiar mixture of worry and love. She often fretted about Anni-Frid's solitude, not understanding that her niece preferred the company of her own thoughts rather than being surrounded by many friends. Despite Olive's constant fussing, Anni-Frid never resented it—it was just that sometimes it felt like too much, when she was perfectly content as she was.

Noticing her granddaughter lost in thought, Arntine gently interrupted, offering her a slice of apple she had cut up. "Here you go, älskling," she said softly. Anni-Frid gave a grateful nod, nibbling on the fruit.

"Are we almost there, mormor?" she asked, her impatience bubbling to the surface.

Arntine chuckled softly, amused but unsurprised by the question. "Patience, dear heart," she replied with a smile. "We've only just boarded. But don't worry, we'll be there soon, and Aunt Olive will be waiting to take care of you."

"Like making me eat more?" Anni-Frid quipped, her tone playful but with an undercurrent of truth.

"Exactly," Arntine said with a wink. She knew her daughter well, and there was no stopping her caring nature. Anni-Frid smiled to herself, thinking of Olive's boundless enthusiasm and the warm, inviting coziness of her home.

When they finally arrived at the station around dinner time, Anni-Frid leaped off the train, her heart racing with excitement. The crisp evening air filled her lungs as the small town sparkled under a fresh blanket of snow. Hand in hand, she and Arntine strolled through the charming streets, their breaths visible in the cold, as they made their way toward Olive.

Waiting at the station, Olive greeted them with open arms. It had been some time since they had last seen each other—travel between them was not always easy.

"Mamma," Olive smiled, embracing Arntine tightly. "Hur mår du?" she asked softly.

"Bra," Arntine replied with a tender firmness, returning the hug and pressing a kiss to Olive's cheek.

Then Olive turned to Anni-Frid, her face lighting up. "Anni-Frid, my little one, look how much you've grown!" Her voice cracked with emotion as she squeezed Anni-Frid's shoulders and planted a wet, familiar kiss on her cheek—the kind that only family gives. Anni-Frid brushed it away with a shy smile, leaning into the warm hug that followed.

Olive led them through the quiet streets of the town, the walk to her home comfortably brisk. Bundled in warm coats and scarves, the chill hardly touched them. As they wandered deeper into the heart of the town, a sound drifted through the night—lively jazz music, rich and inviting. Anni-Frid stopped in her tracks, enchanted by the melody. Her eyes searched for its source until they landed on a small, glowing bar with frosted windows, candles flickering warmly inside. The golden light spilled onto the snowy street, a contrast to the icy world outside, and in that moment, Anni-Frid felt a flutter in her chest.