Our childhood has disappeared while we have been at home. We have had almost no physical contact with anyone. That’s how it was when I met my best friend again.
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I sat on the train. Snowy landscape past the window.
It bubbled in my stomach, I did not know if it was because I was happy, or because I was hungry. I had not seen her in two years. Two years, just because of the damn pandemic. The pandemic that keeps everyone at home. The pandemic that creates fear and depression. The pissed off covid-19.
Three minutes until the train arrives. I’ve missed her so much! I have missed all the weird things we came up with, and all the laughter we had together.
Two minutes until the train arrives.
I have missed all our failed baking attempts, at home in my kitchen. I have even missed being nauseous after too much candy on Saturday nights.
One minute until the train arrives.
I have missed her laughter, the bubbling laughter that somehow lit up her whole face. But I have not seen her laugh in a long time, not in two years. Not in the two pissed off years that have been full of shutdowns, tests, vaccines, helpless politicians and lonely people.
The train slowed down and stopped at Oslo S at exactly eleven o’clock. I jumped up from the seat and hurried with me the yellow Fjällräven backpack that I had received from my mother in first class.
I was the first to get off the train. I looked for her as I tied the long, green scarf around her neck, and found her almost immediately. She was wearing the big, red winter jacket and a brown scarf the nonsense was around her neck.
The nose and cheeks were red from the cold. The sight of her warmed my heart, and tears welled up. I had missed her so much. My very best friend.
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