three

my grandmother asked
last autumn
it'll be a year soon, right?
where does the dust come from
and where does time go?
or money,
which let's be honest
is why I came here
shamelessly scraping it together

it's time to take stock
and analyse why
my bank account is empty,
but my heart is endlessly full

in the breeze of the approaching Mother Tongue Day
I practise my mother's language
and exclude for a moment
all those immigrants
with whom I identify the most

for three years
I have been afraid of being alone
while holding my own hand
as the plane on my hometown's runway
shakes me homeward every time
and my one and a half suitcases
rolled along the mountain road home
into the unknown

I have tried to be two
lost myself, and found again
pelmeni and kvass
filled the freezer
with rye bread and kohuke
and in the cupboard, waiting their turn
5 jars of grandmother's pumpkin
tonight I'm having blood sausage

I have found my place
in the ranks of the 10-year-old Trollid
at every Tuljak dancefloor
among other Estonians
changed jobs 3 times
found 3+1 suitable homes
but not one of my choices
has been permanent
I have learned to hold gently
what is here today
and to let go of everything
that the current carries away

from beneath the layer of ice
peace has thawed
a hope that everything
will work out in the end
whatever life brings
I feel certain
in the sum of my choices
when I know that my family
in Estonia, is doing well

I cannot come back
they won't allow
my Estonian ethno bean bag
onto the plane
Estonian Air would be more understanding
but I think about it
until my sea buckthorn syrup supplies
remain this critically low

in two years
I can apply for a Norwegian passport
only to never give up
my Estonian one