I HEARD LYYDIA’S LAUGHTER long before I saw her face. The morning I boarded the Arcturus, I was struck by the bubbling sound that rose fearlessly above the din of the crowd. I also have to say that it annoyed me to no end. After all the preparations, the tumult of emotions, and the strain of the journey already behind me, I had stumbled into the terminal, close to tears – relieved to have found the right place all by myself, and to have made it to the right ship in time.
I had set down my luggage, trying to straighten my hat. Both of these things were new and uncomfortable; the plywood suitcase was cumbersome and ugly, whereas the bell-shaped hat felt strangely light on my head, as if it would take flight any second. I had to keep touching it just in case. I checked my purse for my documents. I straightened my skirt and touched my hat.
It wasn’t like me to feel so jittery. I blamed my light-headedness and my strangely racing heart on my hunger and the many sleepless nights I’d endured. Everything around me seemed to move at an accelerated pace, whereas my own reactions were slow, as my voice was when I had to answer people’s questions. At first I could hardly understand them, and thought they were speaking Swedish. After they had repeated the question – in what was clearly Finnish – I stammered an answer, cheeks burning with shame. Leaving home, I’d felt
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Anne Karppinen is a university teacher, musician and writer based in Finland. Her short stories have recently appeared in Tales from the Moonlit Path and Not One of Us; “The Lamplighter’s Daughter” was chosen for the Best of Wyldblood anthology in December 2022. Her book, The Songs of Joni Mitchell, was published by Routledge in 2016.