Since I was a child listening to my mother’s stories about the boats that would weave their way through the fjords to bring letters and necessary goods to little towns and villages up north where Santa lived, I have wanted to visit northern Norway. Fortunately, in her lifetime, my mother did sail on a Norwegian mail boat to the arctic circle, but for me, it was an unchecked box on my list of adventures.

Growing up with a Mexican father and a Norwegian mother, the magic of Norway was intertwined with my Mexican heritage and traditions, with each part of my ancestry carrying an equal balance in the fabric of my life. Physically, I am most comfortable in Norway. Rain, snow or the days when the sun never rises don’t bother or deter me. I see the sparkle and shine in the alchemy of nature, history, folklore, and the warm and gracious people.

This holiday season, my husband, son, daughter-in-law, and I spent Christmas in Bergen, Norway, and then on the twenty-sixth of December, we hopped on a flight to Tromsø. Granted, this wasn’t the iconic mail boat voyage that my mother waxed on poetically about, but it fulfilled one of my dreams.

Last year my son and his now wife visited Tromso and got engaged in Lofoten, an archipelago in Norway, so this location also held special meaning for them. For my husband and me, this trip fitted into our pact as we lean into our sixties to say yes to adventure and stepping out of our comfort zone unless there is a truly legitimate reason to say no. Our house is going through renovation and construction, so why not use this time as an opportunity to go someplace bucket-list worthy? Why not experience the polar nights and northern lights? We said yes, and off we went.

The flight descent into Tromso had an ethereal quality and was worth the price of the airfare in itself. We left Bergen at eleven in the morning in daylight, and in less than two hours, we arrived in Tromso at one in the afternoon in the twilight. A hush came over the passengers on our plane as we passed close to snow-covered mountains and over fjords of blue-grey hues. On the horizon, the sky was painted in strokes of dark blue, pink, and yellow, and off in the distance, a small crescent of city lights sparkled. The natural beauty was otherworldly and breathtaking as could be.

Once on the ground and loaded into our rental car, we ventured into the strange darkness of the winter night to the Airbnb we rented. It was a sweet red barn at the end of a fjord. We hadn’t planned on most of the grocery stores and restaurants being closed on the twenty-sixth of December, but this is considered part of the Christmas holiday in Norway, so we found ourselves in a bit of a panic about whether we would have anything to eat for the rest of the day and evening.

Did I mention that the four of us were in various stages of getting over colds, with me, the last to get sick, with a wicked sore throat and an annoying cough? So, while the others went on a scavenger hunt to find food, I felt so terrible that I stayed back at the cabin to rest.

I puttered around the cabin, looking out various windows, and wondered how I would know if the northern lights had come out. Did I need to stare out the windows all night to avoid missing them? We had been told that the best time to see them was between 11 pm and 2 am and that we’d probably need to hire a guide to take us into the mountains where we could view the coveted phenomenon.

I decided to lie in bed in our dark bedroom so I might see any change in the sky. I unpacked my suitcase, made a cup of tea, and crawled into bed. No sooner had my head touched the pillow and one sip of tea passed my lips when I thought I saw something green in the sky. I jumped out of bed and threw open the windows with a blast of frigid air rushing into the room, and low and behold, the dance had begun.

I soon forgot about my chills, whopping headache, and throat that felt like I was swallowing shards of glass. I pulled on my puffy black coat and snow boots and ran outside, leaving my scarf, hat, and gloves behind. The sky was exploding in every direction with green, purple, and pink swirls of light as I stood alone in the dark and cold, with the wind whipping around me. The moment felt spiritual and overwhelming. I sensed my mother’s presence. I just knew she was there with me.

I stayed outside until I could no longer feel my fingers or face. Once inside, I was texting as fast as I could. I told my husband to drop whatever they were doing and return to the little red cabin. He didn’t text back. I sent him a photo of the scene unfolding above me, but still no reply, so I called him with my excited breathless scratchy throat and, in between coughs, tried to explain what I had seen.

He was hangry and couldn’t find any food, and they couldn’t “see shit in the sky” from where they stood in the town. I hung up – he was killing my elated northern lights Tromso vibe. I went outside in absolute exuberant delight. At that point, I didn’t care if I starved, nature was doing something spectacular, and this could be my only chance to see it.

Within forty-five minutes, the lights were gone, and the weary band of travelers drove up with bland-looking pre-wrapped sandwiches from 7-Eleven for themselves and nothing for me. Now I was hangry. I found a small bag of granola and ate it dry. It felt super special grazing across my on-fire throat. In all fairness to them, I had said I was fine with eating some oatmeal I had in my suitcase, but the water from the faucet smelled funky, so I decided I shouldn’t use it

Within minutes of scarfing down our meager meal, one of the guys thought they saw the beginnings of something in the sky. We suited up in our winter gear, went outside, and the show began again. Streams of neon green stretched across the sky, arching over our heads. We all stood in awe, looking up to the heavens with smiles on our faces. At one point, a line of green began throwing out bursts of colors like a dahlia blooming, with petals of purple and pink. Wow, this was something.

We played outside, celebrating our good fortune to see this extravaganza of solar particles and gasses colliding with our earthly atoms and molecules and becoming a glowing tribute to how gorgeous a creature this universe is until there was only blue with shimmering stars in the sky.

Later we ate gas station pizza – it was delicious.