Grandpa and Grandma reading and knitting in the living room

I moved out onto the frozen tundra many years ago now, and have lived in many different situations — thankfully none without a roof. One becomes accustomed over time to a variety of different living situations, but I think that potentially none of them have quite the resonance of the nascent imprinted home. There’s nothing that quite captures that essence like the scene above, blurred as all memories are — it’s gezellig. It’s a scene that perfectly captures peace and contentment, and isn’t that what the ideal of home truly is?

Like any other ideal, I am not sure it’s attainable and certainly not possible to hang onto, it always remains faintly out of reach, a delight of the imagination. It’s a realization never fully complete within this world.

I have a final next week that still requires much studying and a hellish week at work looking forward. It’s the last big push before the end of the year, and made a little more complicated by the fact that I have been sick for the last week. I hate getting sick, because invariably, I accomplish nothing during that entire period. That, and of course, being sick is usually a miserable experience. I have high hopes that this weekend will be a productive one.