Last year, on the thirty-first of December, we were in a small Swedish town. This year, as the thirty-first of December comes around, a sense of nostalgia and longing fills me ... those long, cold days that seemed to stretch on endlessly.
At the end of last year, I chose to work in the microscopy lab at my workplace. I was thoroughly enjoying a new microscope I had recently learned to use and had some slides to finish. It was the thirty-first of December, so aside from the presence of a couple of lab mates, the lab was completely empty.
The winter air was crisp, with the temperature outside hovering at minus twelve. We started our day around ten in the morning. I worked in the microscopy lab while my daughter stayed with her dad in his office. We both worked at the same place- the Umeå Plant Science Centre (UPSC).
Johannes, J's boss, had left his office key with him for the holidays, so J temporarily used Johannes’s office. This arrangement gave my daughter the rare privilege of having access to Johannes's large whiteboard at his office- something she doesn’t have at home for sure. A large whiteboard is literally her favorite thing, and she was overjoyed to draw on it. J joined her on the whiteboard, drawing countless things while intermittently working on his laptop, though not without numerous interruptions from his daughter. They also wandered through the long corridors of the UPSC building while I was checking my slides at the microscope room.
We had lunch together in the fika room, where we met a few other colleagues who preferred working during the holidays. For them, this time of year was less hectic, offering the calm focus needed for lab work, and it wasn’t about causing themselves to suffer by working on holidays; rather, it reflected researchers’ work culture and varied preferences for leisure.
After lunch, we continued our work.
Outside, the snow-covered trees sparkled under the diffused sunlight.
I finished my tasks around six in the evening. In the meantime, we paused for a short afternoon tea break- what the Swedes call fika, obviously at our Fika room at the UPSC.
Then we rushed home at six - not to cook or eat, but because we had an invitation at Swati Vabi and Lincoln Vai’s house. For six years, there wasn’t a single December 31st when we weren’t there. The thirty-first of December wouldn’t feel complete without a call from Swati Vabi inviting us over.
She is someone I always argue with- argue about anything. Sometimes she tries to convince me of her perspective, and sometimes I try to convince her of mine. She talks the most, we listen the most; she cooks the most, we eat the most. Despite our disagreements, we both know our friendship is built on mutual respect and some kind of strong bonding.
Swati Vabi is open-hearted and honest. Most importantly, she is CARING and SELFLESS. For six years, she cared for us like a big sister, with zero expectations. After cooking countless dishes and desserts by hand, she would beautifully serve them, then dress in traditional Bangladeshi attire to host her guests. That’s just her thing, and we couldn’t complain even if we tried.
Perhaps the loss of her parents and siblings at an early age made her so affectionate and caring toward the people still in her life. From her, I learned to cherish the importance of moments. For every celebration, she preserves memories through her impeccable decorations, celebrations, and even the fireworks- because she ensured they happened. She multitasked effortlessly; cooking, talking, keeping an eye on everyone, listening for children’s cries, ensuring their safety, and making sure everyone ate. She is extraordinary. She spoiled us, especially me.
As this year ends, I feel a twinge of sadness thinking about the friends I left behind. Yet, I also know this is the journey I chose- a path that took me far from them.
After six years in Umeå, as we boarded the plane and set off for the other side of the globe in Australia, I carried immense gratitude for the experiences and memories Sweden gave me. Umeå had become a part of me, a place that would always hold a special corner of my heart!
As 2022 ends- or is ending in parts of the world, my thoughts return to those I left behind in a distant land. I remember the joy and laughter we shared, the tears we shed, and the bonds we developped. Those moments will always remain permanently in my heart and mind.
Though miles and borders separate us now, I know that an invisible, precious bond continues to connect us across time and space. As the New Year approaches, I hope it brings happiness and opportunities for self-discovery to us all.
31st Dec 2022
Sydney, Australia