Northern Lights

One day, a few years from now, I’ll think back over my life and remember that I’ve seen it. That I saw the night sky light up in green and orange and white. The evening was described as crisp. In my world though, -6 qualifies as cold, but apparently it was a warm Norwegian winter. It was a clear night and we could see the stars. We heard later that this was a good thing. The woman told us that when they were younger they were told that, if you waved at the lights, they would come down to grab you. Earlier it had never occurred to me that people lived in places where they could see this almost every evening during winter. We had coffee and biscuits, like proper grown-ups, conversing in basic English. But inside, like children, we counted the moments and hoped it would be tonight. We checked our watches regularly. The man had said it usually comes past 8, but it was 9pm already. We tried to look out the window as often as possible, without seeming rude.

Inside I knew. Tonight.

Suddenly he spotted it and were were up like children. We dressed in our boots, jackets, scarves and gloves quicker than we had ever before. In a few seconds we were standing ankle-deep in the snow, our eyes fixed on the sky above us.

It danced. It really danced. Even more than the pictures had lead me to believe. Green. White. Then orange. More green. Moving as if to the beat of some unique, cosmic rhythm.

Years later I will remember thinking that this was the “coolest thing I had ever experienced on my 25 years on earth.” Years later I will remember that the sky danced for me.


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