I may have to finish this in the morning, but the greeting stands. That´s Icelandic for good night. I am iin Gimli, Manitoba, and it´s a long story.... to be told in the morning. I have a lot to assimilate.
.May 12:: So - morning, facing east across Lake Winnipeg from my bedroom here and the sunrise was beautiful. There is still ice on the water near the shore but the lake is open; I am told that the ice just drifted/blew? in yesterday morning. Full light now and my head is bright. My arm, however (shoulders, hand, wrist, elbow), is weak and aching and the soft pressure of my fingers on the keyboard rides up my arm and gives me pain - well, discomfort. Then, too, I am taking in too many impressions and feelings, too many to sort out and write quickly.
When they married, my parents received the present of a summer cottage in Gimli from my mother's parents, a long-lasting gift. I spent every summer of my childhood in Gimli. It was a fishing village cum resort then, founded by Icelandic settlers. As you may have surmised, my maternal grandparents came from Iceland. I learned a lot. I wish I had learned more. Mother discouraged me from learning Icelandic so that she could gossip freely with her sisters. I picked up a little by osmosis: a good accent, a few sentences, taught by my grandmother, that helped me with some grammar much later in life when I began classes and tried to learn the (difficult) language. When I was sixteen, Greek was easy; at 60-something, Icelandic was not. It's a difference synapse. The slightly better news is that it's good for an older brain to learn a new language (better than Lumosity).
I give you this background because present-day Gimli is vastly different from the place I knew as a child. After we moved East I have come back so seldom that each return visit leaves me stranded between past and present, at odds with memory. I have written a semi-autobiographical novel, arranged as a series of stories set in remembered pasts. Parts of it have appeared in various publications. I must try to sell it. (Story of my life.)
My arm hurts. I'm hungry.