STOCKHOLM–Tragedy struck this little apartment on Kindstugatan yesterday for the second time this month. Ten year old Karl “Rusky” Lejon passed away yesterday morning after a three year battle with tuberculosis. This loss in the Lejon household comes just weeks after the death of their older son, Jonathan. After a fire broke out in the family kitchen, brave Jonathan took his little brother onto his backing and leapt from sixth floor window. Breaking his brother’s fall, Jonathan was pronounced dead on the scene; Rusky, cushioned by his brother’s body, survived the fall. In a cruel twist of fate, that blessing was short-lived, but the story of the lionhearted Jonathan has already become a local legend. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the Lejon family during this difficult and trying time.
I would stand on the edge of the cliff for hours. It dropped off into a jungle, a kind of verdant sea divided from the blue by a strip of hot sand. But I didn’t look down. There was a whole horizon line to look beyond. Even as I closed my eyelids, they shot forward. My palms, open to the wind at my side, had a new kind of readiness. A nervous awareness spread through my hands. Slowly it began. Smile. I had called to the winds and they ruffled my hair back.
We watched it every single Saturday night. That may seem a small feat, but not where we grew up. We were allowed one movie a week. No television. No video games. No computer. One. Movie. And week after week, we sat down and watched it. Well, she was better behaved than me. I could barely make a three week stretch before I got my movie taken away. But she would keep tabs on them and would rap the door to give me time to dash back to my room from my eavesdropping nook. Perhaps it was our analogous on screen duo or even some shared desire to buck the authority and prove our independence. But I think we really just wanted to be spies.
