Visit to summer cabin blends sweet feelings of old and new | THE MOM STOP

Deja vu is a feeling of already having experienced the present situation, or a feeling of familiarity, according to the definition in the Oxford dictionary.

I couldn’t shake that exact feeling last week as I sat in the living room of a summer cabin overlooking a fjord that led to the North Sea in Sandefjord, Norway.

The furniture inside the cabin was largely unchanged, the same pictures hung on the wall, and even the glass candle holder and hand-carved navy captain knickknack figurines remained on the window ledge next to the TV, the same as they always had. The view outside the giant picture window, looking out onto expansive water and a floating dock below, was unchanged.

I felt as though I had been transported back to the summer of 1996, when I spent nearly six weeks living at that house with distant Norwegian relatives, whose daughter had become a close friend through being my pen pal.

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Sitting on the couch, overlooking the fjord, I could seemingly hear the sounds as my then-12-year-old cousin played soccer in the yard outside. I could taste the sour gummy candy we’d pick up in town on Saturdays, candy that we’d chew on all week while watching reruns of early 1990s "Days of Our Lives" episodes on TV, competitions from the 1996 Olympics or news following the crash of TWA Flight 800.

Next to where I sat, looking out over the fjord, was the wooden dining room table where I blew out the candles on a cake for my 15th birthday. For a split second, I still felt 15.

That is, until my daughters walked into the room.

Some people have family homes or places they go to that don’t evolve much and seemingly stay the same, a stalwart place for a person to go back to; a touchstone that remains a constant in their lives.

And while I once had something like that — my grandparents’ home — it’s been at least a decade since I had any place like that in my life. Or so I thought.  Sitting in that cabin, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that so much of it remain unchanged.

The summer of 1996 was such a hugely transformative time for me — one when I discovered myself. My eyes opened to the world outside of my own and I started to discover the person I wanted to be. It was the summer that I discovered I loved traveling, loved other cultures, and loved Norway in particular.

I dreamed that one day, I’d bring my kids to Norway. I wanted them to run on the rocky beach below and swim in the frigid waters, avoiding the jellyfish that scared me.

I hoped that one day, I’d bring my own family to Sandefjord to experience the summer barbecues by the fjord, boat trips to rocky islands and the joy of a carefree, Scandinavian summer.

Last week, some of that dream came to reality. It isn’t 1996 and so much has changed. And yet I could hear my 7-year-old daughter outside, laughing and playing in a small pool with her three young cousins — the children of my close friend and former pen pal.

We had barbecues out on the cabin’s large verandah overlooking the water. My children played on the shore, collecting oyster shells and poking the numerous jellyfish in the water with sticks.

We took a boat ride to picnic on a neighboring island and my 13-year-old daughter discovered what it’s like to kayak in the North Sea. We ate sour Scandinavian candy on Saturday, the way I always had so many summers before.

And at night, long after the kids had gone to sleep, my Norwegian cousin and I stayed up talking about our lives, our families, our careers and motherhood. And for a few wonderfully perfect days, 26 years seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet like no time had passed at all.

Lydia Seabol Avant writes The Mom Stop for The Tuscaloosa News. Reach her at momstopcolumn@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: Visit to summer cabin blends feelings of old and new | THE MOM STOP