A Helsinki day

The city buzzes with people.

Are there others like me who are here

to discover something of themselves

in a place they have never known?

My friend and her daughter walk with me

and I think back to all those decades ago

when her family welcomed me in.

Now here I am with the next generation.

Her little daughter is my companion.

We wander through a magnificent church,

its interior cool and resplendent with gold and finery.

The crucifix scared her. I could see why.

She asks me about God,

and I answer as well as I can,

knowing I don’t really know.

Outside, at a little stall, an artist paints

the most beautiful Finnish scenes

and chats with my friend.

On the corner a lone banjo player

plays for anyone who’ll listen.

Our young tender-hearted companion

drops a coin of her own into his hat.

We wander among the vendor stalls,

buying a few little touristy gifts—t-shirts, socks,

and a wooden slingshot carved like a fox

that she wants, and her mom says yes.

One vendor throws in earrings for free

because she spotted bird poop on the packaging.

As he cleans the package off and presents it to us,

she solemnly holds out another of her coins

and insists he take it, even as he protests.

We sit down with the crisp bite of a Long Drink.

Garlic and cheese scent the air

along with a hit of those little fried fish, muikku, I think,

and a tinge of smoke from somebody’s cigarette.

The Baltic afternoon sun is lazy-making.

The chairs are warm

against the backs of our legs

and we move the umbrellas

to shade us from glare.

The cool tang of rich cloudberry ice cream

tones down the heat.

A choir sings on the steps of a nearby church,

their harmonies floating to us on the evening breeze.

The Baltic gleams in the distance.

Nearby, a DJ begins his set,

the bass thumping in competition

with the church music and

the incessant babble of voices.

We prefer the choir.

The drive back is filled

with uncontrollable laughter,

an inside joke that gets funnier the more you tell it.

The road unwinds in twilight and we stop

at a swimming hole

at what I would think of as bedtime.

It is still swarming with activity

in the steady Finnish dusk,

children swimming and splashing,

tired parents trying to get them to go home.

Continuing on our journey home,

we spot a moose off in the distance,

then deer, and finally, a fox slinking off into the forest.

It is late when we arrive, and we relive the day,

doubling over again at the joke from before.