Somewhere Else

Chapter 4: Where the Heart is (ii)

We fly to Hamburg on Friday night, and I'm beside myself. It's just a weekend trip, I know, but everything feels so bright all of a sudden. And I, too, feel lighter.

I'm going home.

When we land in Hamburg at ten in the night, I'm practically bouncing on the heels of my feet. Seeing all the familiar signs, familiar tram routes, familiar places and names... They're the world's most beautiful pieces of works in my eyes. The public service announcements, being made in a language I instinctively understand are music to my ears. Outside, it's winter too; it's dark, too – but I don't feel the cold at all. It's nothing compared to what I've had to endure in Helsinki.

All through the arrival, and even when we leave the airport to get on the metro, I keep up a running commentary about everything around us. I know I should stop talking, but I can't help myself. The words are all pouring out now. I've been talking so much, and so naturally, I'm not even keeping track of the language I'm using anymore. I've been trying to stick to English, but there is something about being back in Germany. It feels weird to speak in English. But it doesn't matter which language I'm using, because Aksel understands German too.

Aksel, on the contrary, has been exceptionally quiet the whole journey here, only speaking when he has to. I have enough self-awareness to wonder if I'm overwhelming him with my mindless chatter. But I can't stop. I try, several times, on the journey to my parents' house, where we will be staying, but I only manage a few minutes of silence before I see something else – the street that my friends and I used to play on as children, the time I got lost at the main train station at the age of six and ended up chatting with a homeless man before my mother found me – that sends the words spilling from my tongue again.

By the time we get off at the station, I am almost out of breath from my own incessant chatter. We walk in relative silence through the station, our suitcases rolling along behind us. Aksel makes no effort to speak, while I have to suck in my lips in an effort to keep quiet. The moment we emerge from the station, the wind smacks me in the face. But this time, instead of cringing away from the cold, I feel my lips stretch outwards, into a huge smile.

I am still grinning as we walk down the street that leads to the neighbourhood of my childhood home. As the familiar scenery comes into view, I can feel a fluttering in my heart that grows stronger with every step, until I am almost trembling with it. Everything I see and recognise engulfs me in emotion, but it's all the good kind. The nostalgic kind. The kind that feels like coming home.

And pretty soon, we're here. My childhood home, the home that has housed me for so many years, before I had to grow up and leave. In an act of recklessness, I leave my suitcase standing at the end of the path and rush onto the front lawn.

I dive to the ground, rolling on the bare ground – it rarely ever snows here – just enjoying the feeling of being back in Hamburg again. Of being home again. The skies are grey; the ground is completely bare, as are the tree branches, but there is something magical in all of it. I want to bury myself into the ground and stay here forever. The air smells fresher; tastier. The world, everything around me, looks like it's in Technicolor. Even the dirt feels more welcoming.

Aksel starts when I break away from him, and then he's bending over me, reaching out to catch me when I spin around too crazily. I laugh up at him, my head spinning. Then I grab his hand and pull him down, too. He lands on top of me, but he rolls off almost at once so he won't crush me with his weight. I roll with him, lying with the upper half of my body perched on his chest. I try to roll us over again, but he grabs me by the waist, stopping me. "Be careful," he says.

Why do I need to be careful? I'm home. Nothing can touch me now. Still grinning with the heady feeling of sheer joy, I lean over and kiss him right on the mouth. I'm happy, delighted – exuberant, and I'm kissing him hotly in a way that channels my overspilling emotions.