According to a no-frills, nothing-fancy watermarked piece of paper from the Swedish government, I’m now a Swedish citizen.
There’s no history test. There’s no ceremony. There’s no secret handshake. It simply is what it is.
Do I feel any different? Absolutely not. Am I different? Uh, yup. Live, breathe and function in any new place for about five years and you’ll be different, too. It’s hard to see in yourself, but it happens. In the slideshow below are a few of the things that make my heart happy about being here.
I don’t remember her source, but a classmate once told me it takes about 2.5 years to cross the threshold toward feeling settled in a new place. She’s already lived in many places, so I trusted what she said. But I shook it off at the time. I wouldn’t be here that long anyway.
She was right, I guess. Rapidly approaching the three-year mark, lately I’ve been noticing that things do feel different. Maybe it’s the job and a second family of sorts. Or maybe it’s not being so/as lost in conversation. Probably it has a bit to do with Karl and I having a place of our own. But the main force, I believe, is seeing other people.
No, not in the way associated with Swedish sexual liberation. Not like that.