love: not a finnished product

I never loved my country more than when I was in exile. I always need a bit of a distance in order to love properly.

Loving when there is no distance is hard work. If I say "I love you" enough times, will that bring back the love that is now hidden too deep within me, beneath all the petty irritations?

So, I love Finland, and so many things about it. Today, I will mention the sea lapping against the jetties as I sat by the shore, the terns shrieking, and the lonely man steering his little boat out towars the open sea despite the treacherous waves and the fickle spring weather - the freedom I saw in his proud look. I will mention my rusty, trusty bicycle that has served me well, and sometimes not so well, since I was eleven, and the way it took me over miles of asphalt and gravel today when I needed to feel the wind in my face and the exertion in my muscles. I will mention the comfort in sitting at my mother's kitchen table and the joy of having morning coffee on the balcony when the temperature was just right. I will mention the beautiful library which has finally realised that the people needs not only quality literature but also TV series on DVD.

And I will mention the patriotism in the air today, one of the rare occasions Finns actually agree on hoping for the same thing. Or two things, this particular weekend: our talented representative in the Eurovision Song Contest tonight, and our brave ice hockey team in the world championship finals tomorrow. Whatever the outcome, right this moment I enjoy the feeling of being a Finn. I exhume the love.