An ideal day

"Did you look up the address earlier?" my oldest daughter asked as we stood on a port neighbourhood square surrounded by modern architecture and renovated historical industrial buildings, realising I had brought us to a wrong art gallery. On this snowy and windy Wednesday afternoon the area was empty, the locals at work and the tourist probably hiding in warm cafes. A massive glittering and flickering Christmas tree swayed in the wind as if listening to some festive tunes and pretending the weather was gorgeous. 

"Nope. Because I thought I knew it was here. It's not this gallery though," I responded. 

We had walked almost half an hour through the snow filled streets of Tallinn Old Town and then the quaint and bohemian old district with low wooden apartment houses, navigating between snow piles and shovelling home owners, trying to avoid slipping or spraining our ankles. The snow kept falling and falling, and wind kept twirling and twirling it low and high. 

"We have come this far, we might as well continue. What's the address? I'll look it up," my daughter had her phone out already. 

The day had started with a late breakfast in a cafe in the centre of the freshly renovated book store. After this we strolled through the bookstore listening whether any books spoke to us. The bookstore stretched wide in many directions and we tried to make sure we didn't miss any sections. The voices of books stayed quiet among the trinkets and knick-knacks trying to jump off the shelves. We left without books, what was unusual and yet made us proud of not buying anything for the sake of buying. We hadn't been able to pass a cute cupcake cafe on our way without buying a soft and creamy salted caramel cupcake.

My daughter found the address not far from us and off we went, ploughing through more snow, she a little ahead with her proper winter boots and longer legs, I following her with shorter steps and double the age. 

And then we arrived at the right gallery surrounded with a wire fence and a closed gate. We stared at the exhibition poster next to the gate. Besides the opening hours there was a little note in small letters - open with a prior agreement. A phone number was included. 

We looked at each other. 

"Now what?" my daughter asked.

My thoughts couldn't find the direction and my legs started to take me away form the gate and then back again. We had come so far. The gate was closed. We were here. We hadn't made the arrangement. There was a phone number. I wanted to see the exhibition.

"I'll call," I decided. 

A person answered and was delighted to let us into the small gallery space, commenting on us being the only visitors on this snowy winter day. 

The exhibition "Reflections" was a collaboration between a sculptor Anne Türn and a photographer Toomas Tuul. They had placed the sculptural objects growing light tendrils into beautiful nature settings near water where the objects and light and reflection created magical-mystical installations. Outside the snow had turned into a thick white curtain. Inside the silence, the sculptures and the photos played with my heart and mind. My daughter and I looked at the art and at each other, and we smiled. 

Many times I have come across an assignment to picture my ideal day. I have learned that it's impossible to have just one ideal day. It could be a Saturday with a slow morning and lots of reading and writing, it could be a summer day on a seaside listening to the waves lulling to the shore or eating wild strawberries and watching the grass grow, it could be a productive and tiring school day ending with a tea ceremony in a small tea house, it could be a day with city street wandering and a writing marathon, it could be a day of workshops where the head grows almost physically with new learning, it could be a day with my husband walking together for hours on the streets of a small town we randomly chose to drive to, it could be a family gathering day filled with laughter and chatting and lots of good food, it could be a day out with friends drinking pots of tea and talking for hours, or it could be trudging through snow-stormy streets with my daughter to visit an art gallery to admire dream-like art. 

As the year ends, a year with some emotional challenges for me, I know that from the challenges I grow and come out stronger, I'm wrapped in gratitude for all the wonderful days that I have had this year. 

Wishing everyone many days of light and magic for the new year! 

a photo from the exhibition