Another from my
The story behind this one is again about my great grandma. This is my
humble attempt to reflect on the desolation she probably must have
felt out there on the countryside, all alone in the farm with a newborn.
It's still beyond me how the hell she made it through the brutal and
drawn out Swedish fall, winter and spring, in the 1920s. There must
have been some very sad and lonely times for her. For some reason,
my mom seemed to have an innate ability to relate deeply to her
grandma's well being — she always seemed to truly understand her
emotionally. That's why I named it after my mom.