a song to the mountains

I cannot get enough of the mountains here in Japan. Every day I feel drawn to them, to see them, to feel them, to walk among them. It is almost like they talk to me through the air I breath, the cold winds that sweep around my face, the dense forests. The air at home when we open the windows has the scent of pine trees growing near our house, and if I close my eyes I can also imagine the faint hint of mountain soil, filtered through the carpet of firns covering the slope of the mountain under which we live. When we go to the playground we always take the time to look at the small mountains that we can see in the south, and when we go to the sea we let our eyes rest on the mountains on the water.

Experiencing the mountains with my family is one of my favorite things in life, and I hope that our son will grow up to love the mountains as much as I do. The mountains in Japan are quite different from Sweden – wilder, steeper, and I feel with a different kind of soulfulness. I love the mountains in the north of Sweden as well, and for a long time I was dreaming of living among them – the cold naked vastness of life leaving me feeling at peace inside. Now that I live in Japan I feel like this is where I was always meant to live; close to the spirit of life.

The sense of awe that mountains inspire is something I love sharing with my son, so the other day while our lady was working and the day seemed to be a beautiful premonition of spring, I prepared my son and myself and set off on our bike to go mountain climbing. We left the bike at the carpark and started the climb on foot together, my not yet two years old son with a harness to keep him safe on the narrow path up the mountain. His eyes were shining as he saw the steps, the stones, the leaves, the trees, heard the birds and the little bell on my backpack that is supposed to let any wild boar know that there is someone to avoid coming. He borrowed by walking stick and happily ran as fast as the little path permitted.

Around halfway up my son wanted me to carry him, but before letting him sit in the childcarrier backpack we took a little fika break and enjoyed some time on a bench in the sun, watching our little town below. When my baby had finished his juice he took his seat on my back and we continued up the mountain. I have followed this path a few times already since moving to Fukuoka, and this time I felt like I was starting to know the twists and turns, the steep parts, the stones and the trees. Sensing that my son was about to fall asleep I hurried on to reach the top and our lunch place before he nodded off, happily talking to him about everything we saw. When it became clear to me that we would not reach the summit both of us awake, I encouraged him to walk the final bit by himself. And before long we had reached our goal.

While we were enjoying the view, we met a few people who were also drawn to the mountain this beautiful spring day. A lady was making friendly talk with us and my son was so happy to explain to her the colors he saw around him. Another elderly lady was curious about us as well, and she wanted to give me candy. I came to feel admiration for the men and women walking the mountains alone, kindly sharing some words with a foreigner and his little son. I want to be strong like them when I grow older, to be able to enjoy the mountains long after I have passed the young years of my life (though preferably not alone but together with my wife).

After lunch we started our walk back, and it became quickly clear that my son wanted to sit on my back and not walk by himself – he was using the path as a slide before lying on his back looking up at the treetops not wanting to move. Back on my back it did not take many minutes until he was fast asleep. I descended the mountain at a leisurely pace, stopping for a coffee break close to a little shrine. My son kept sleeping and did not wake up until we arrived at our bike and I tried to encourage him to move over from the backpack to the childseat. A few tears later we were cycling back home along the rice fields, singing together. The sun had disappeared behind clouds and two tired boys arrived home for an early bath with happy memories from a day in nature, promising each other that we will go back soon. Very very soon.

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