Hardcore nostalgia time

I was born in Feiring, I grew up there. I spent my first 14 years in the same house – a cute, red wooden house in a steep hill. We had a huge garden that garden enthusiasts from across the country came to see. There was a pond with fish and frogs connected to a small creek, apple trees, plum trees, wild cherries, raspberries, blueberries, and there was a greenhouse that we redecorated into a greek tavern. Me and my sister had a treehouse high up in a tree with a swing that our dad built for us – but we never used it, poor man. Me and my sister had a pet lamb, dogs, chickens, bunnies, geese, ducks, a cat, ginnea pigs. My grandparents and great grandmother lived on the other side of the forest, my great aunt on the other side of the road – very few of the neighbours weren't related. On saturday and sunday mornings, the family would have breakfast looking out over the lake or down on the garden, where moose or deer would be eating the apples that fell on the ground. Sometimes a goshawk or a fox would kill the chickens – that always broke my sisters' heart, and we would have a small funeral in the forest bordering on the garden. I feared that forest, to my dads great annoyance, because he always wanted me to go with him when he went for trips. Neither my dad nor I ever went hunting – we never had lust for killing animals (although my grandpa has been hunting moose his entire life). Me, my sister and my dad would often go to a small lake in the forest where we had a canooe, and we would fish for pike (tastes like shit, but whenever I caught one I would brag about it to my friends the day after, always exaggerating its size), perch or trout. In the middle of the lake was a small island where we had a permanent lavvo-tent and campsite, that we would go to after fishing, and we would cook the fish and eat it. The lavvo burnt down in the end.

(The best photo of the house I could find at the moment, taken the winter after it was built. Lake with ice in the background)

Summer holidays would pass by playing football on the field by the lake. Sondre, Ole, Ola, Bjørnar, Ingeborg, Karoline, Jonas, and so many others. After a day of playing, me and Sondre would go to his house, right by the beach, lay down on the trampoline and talk about life, love, sex and our futures.

The family would go for day-trips in the boat, on a dead still lake with the evening sun in our backs. When my dad was in a playful mood we would go get the water skiing-equipment and the boat would race me and my friends around the lake. Good times.

Winter would pass by skiing until we were too cold, and we would go inside and have waffles and a hot drink.

When I come here again, after all this time, I do feel a sense of home and belonging – but I also feel estranged. I don't think this is home anymore – home is in the city – but this is where I am from. No doubt about it. It has its own special place in my heart, and I will always have ties here; family and memories. I hope I will have the chance to take you here.

(Think I will update this post with some more pictures in the future)