A Walk Down Memory Lane

A late summer's morning with no plans other than to play soccer. The sound of grass being cut and the smell that came with it gave you a constant reminder of what a fantastic day this was destined to be. A short walk up that street was the only thing standing in the way between me and the perfect green turf field. That was if I could ever get passed that crosswalk. The sign with white symbols on a blue background was clear for drivers to see, yet no one hardly ever stopped.

The crisp breeze running through my blue Hummel shirt in the warm 60 degree weather made my excitement for the day grow even more. The most amazing aspect of living in the northern hemisphere was the endless daylight, making it possible to play soccer all night with natural light. Summer equaled long days at the field; practicing my shooting, simulating game scenarios, and being competitive with my best friends. My fondest memories were made on that field, and with that, the walks that came with it. Every object on that street is attached to a memory, on my left was an old apartment building made of red brick. One night my friends and I foolishly decided to pitch eggs at the building which led to one very upset mother, mine!

As I bounced my soccer ball along the asphalt, I couldn't help but think about the pending competition between my friends and I. The prospect of winning filled me with electricity. As I was dragging my iconic adidas sandals, I was planning the victory in my mind, and what tactics I would use to capture the win. The lust of winning has always come natural to me, even from a younger age battling out a good game of Mario Kart on the legendary Nintendo 64 with my brother.

Because I had walked the street so many times, each vehicle represented numbers on a clock telling me how long it would be to I reached the soccer field. It was a routine of mine to admire the beauty of the majestic Buddhist temple set among the dozens of birch trees as I reached my destination. Growing up, I always felt so fortunate that a famous Buddhist temple was in my town. This was the same temple that we studied in school, and two years earlier on a school field trip we were able to tour the temple and see all of its beauty. Even today I'm proud that it was part of the community I grew up in. Ahead I could finally see the garages which meant that I was coming to the end of the street. Once I had passed those, all that stood between me and the beautiful green turf field was the stop sign with white symbols on a blue background.

I often remember with great affection the times we had doing just about anything. Sometimes the smallest things can be the most missed. It's now been five years since I've walked down the road, and now I can appreciate the simple joys of just being in on and around Orreveien by surrounding myself with people I hold dear to my heart. That appreciation is a result of the wider perspective I’ve gained by leaving home at a young age. I know I wouldn't think back as fondly had I not moved 4,000 miles at the age of nineteen. but at the same time it has enabled me to grow deeper attachment to objects and memories that remind me of Norway. Like the stop sign with the white symbol on a blue background.