Happy September! Today, I’d like to share a children’s story written about 20 years ago after one of my first trips to Sweden. Two months from now, the country will celebrate All Saint’s Day:
It’s October 31st and Olof is on his way to visit his grandparents. Tomorrow – November 1st – Swedes will gather in the place of their birth to place candles on the graves of ancestors. Olof is excited because the holiday falls in the middle of moose-hunting season. His dream is to see a real live moose.
Forests cover more than half of Sweden. In some areas, there are so many moose that they wander into the road. Olof watches carefully every time a MOOSE CROSSING sign flashes by. Who knows? Maybe a moose will step out of the forest as his father drives past.
It’s dark by the time Olof’s family arrives in his grandparents’ village. They live in a wooden house, right across from town hall. Olof and his sister Karin carry their backpacks to the front door. Swedes take their shoes off before going inside, so Olof slips his sneakers into the row by the radiator and leaps up the stairs, two by two. Grandfather awaits on the landing. The old man leans down to give the boy a hug.
“Hmm. Not bad,” says Grandfather, feeling the muscles in Olof’s arm. “Soon you’ll be strong enough to hunt moose.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Olof asks.
“We have always hunted moose in the family,” says Grandfather. “At first, for food. Then, as the years passed, moose hunting became a tradition. Now, we go hunting because we like the meat.”
“And you can’t buy moose at the supermarket,” Grandmother says, a twinkle in her eye. “Come give me a kiss.”
Olof doesn’t know whether he wants to hunt moose or not. He wiggles away from Grandmother and explores the house to see if anything has changed. He runs his fingers across the bookcases and the old leather sofas. In one corner stands a grandfather clock. In another, an old-fashioned wood stove, covered with tile. Everything is in its place. He looks out the window. The village is so small that he can see the forest. Tall evergreens everywhere.
Olof goes back to the bookcase and pulls out his favorite photo album. In no time he has found the picture he likes the best: his father kneels proudly beside his first moose. The shaggy animal is enormous. Huge antlers stand out from its head.
Olof decides he doesn’t want to hunt moose when he grows up. But moose meat is yummy. Maybe Grandmother will cook moose, with cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, his favorite, for the holiday meal?
That night Grandmother serves reindeer stew for dinner. “The next time you come we’ll have moose,” she says. “Your uncles are going hunting next week.” Olof and his sister Karin prefer meatballs to reindeer. Luckily, their mother thought to bring a package from Stockholm.
That evening, Olof accompanies his parents to the cemetery. Birch trees line the alleyways. People are coming and going. His parents say “Hey!” to everyone they meet. In Swedish, hey means hello.
Iron crosses decorate the cemetery. Olof watches the townsfolk place candles on the graves. Little lights glimmer here and there. The cold night air smells of wax burning.
“Nowhere else in Sweden will you find so many pretty crosses,” Olof’s dad says with pride. For many years he has visited his grandmother’s grave and knows exactly where to find it. “Great-grandmother was a strong woman,” he tells Olof and Karin as they light candles for the tombstone. “She raised four children and ran a hotel, right here in the village.”
Olof’s parents stand with their heads bowed. Olof says nothing because he senses silence is important right now. Slowly they walk back to his grandparents’ house.
Before bed, he looks out the window. Light snow covers the countryside. A full moon lights up the yard like a ballpark. When a shooting star zips across the sky, he makes three wishes: to score a goal at his team’s next ice hockey match, to get a bike for Christmas, and to see a moose on All Saints’ Day.
In the morning, Olof has breakfast. Grandmother has cooked soft-boiled eggs. She gives him a glass of cold milk. There’s toast with jam too. He sits down and pours yogurt onto a bowl of muesli. How he loves the almond and oat cereal.
After breakfast, Olof goes outside to play in the fresh snow. He packs it into snowballs and throws the snowballs at a stop sign. Karin joins him and together they make a snowman.
Their mother is already packing the suitcases for their return trip to Stockholm. Olof will be glad to get home. Grandparents are fun to visit, but there are no toys to play with at their house.
All of a sudden, he hears a commotion in the street and rushes to the window. People are running in all directions. A moose has left the forest and stands in front of his grandparents’ house!
Olof grins because his wish has come true. Now he can tell his city friends that he saw a real live moose over the holiday weekend!
