Squirrels In Oslo

For a while I lived in Oslo 

With such groggy winters and snowfrosted sun 

I used to have squirrels perched everywhere 

They used to be as punctual as the snow and disappeared as fast as the sun 

Flying squirrel, chipmunk and the groundhogs with pecans and pines from my garden 

Which I harvested just for them and even though they were reckless and irresponsible creatures

I showered them love out of fondness 

Years passed and they were hundreds, a city of squirrels out in the snowy garden thriving on everything good but slowly ended my fondness 

They were too many and too much of a nuisance

and even though I had loved them, the love was waning in tiredness

Tiredness grown out of exhaustion and monotony 

and then I got to go to a very fine sunny place in Bali 

I left and never missed them squirrels but somewhere I missed the crunched apricots and dried out shells on the driveway 

The snow melting with the arrival of my rodent generic familia and the nutcracking sounds at dawn. 

Oh wait. Did I just call the squirrels my familia? 

I don't know how much I miss them but my neighbour writes they still do come at the melting of the white and knock on the panes 

Though never touching the overgrown Pines or huddled nuts 

Maybe they came not for my pittance or love but me. 

My familia. Waiting in the sun, tanned to the bones, dreaming about some snow

Is this what feels like nostalgia?