Dear Umbrella Stroller,
You carried me everywhere on that trip to Norway when I was so small. Even in the May 17 parade. I don’t remember it but I’ve seen pictures and I like how I traveled close to the ground but also sort of wrapped in the shadow of whoever was pushing me. Usually it was my mother, walking me into the world, her world.
Why in pictures from that time does the sun always look so fierce? We all looked golden from it like the devoted at the feet of a golden statue. We are all squinting. Was it really like that, Umbrella Stroller? Was it a different sun that shone down on us May 17 40-some years ago?
If you were here maybe we could talk all about it.
Hurra 17.Mai!
-e.