In the Wake
“I am not yet born. That doesn’t matter because I am high up and merely looking and shall not interfere. But everything is known to me. There is glass around me on all sides and a rushing silence. The city lies beneath me. It is early morning. The helicopter circles from Nydalen to the fjord, I can see the forests and the Holmenkollen ski jump and the river running through the city like a silvery-grey ribbon with all the bridges and the small boats moored to poles right down by the mouth, and no...thing moves except a pale speck on its way to the river and one of the bridges crossing to the Maridalsveien on the other side. It is my father. The war is over, the party is over, spring has gone and summer has passed with its male choirs singing and laughter across the country and Norwegian flags flying from newly painted poles; the summer he rode on old buses with his white chorister’s cap on his head or on the back of old lorries decorated with beech leaves and red, white and blue ribbons, the stench of bad diesel burning his nose, and he sang at the top of his voice.MoreLess
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