In Spring of 2019, my mother and I met in Norway. Our motherland. The country of our heritage. We traveled north to Tromsø to see the Aurora. The plane almost crashed over a very turbulent looking frozen lake. Our guide picked us up at the airport… she was very distant and wary of us Americans at first. We picked up the others who booked this excursion at the end of aurora season and proceeded to drive in a big van through the night and snow. She made us put on big suits over our clothes and coats and new socks and boots. I grew up with icy winters but I didn’t realize how cold it would get and just how warm that suit was. It was past midnight now and mom was elated. She couldn’t stop sparking group conversations and making everyone feel like we already knew each other. We drove to three places to photograph the lights. At the third stop, our guide offered us soup and sandwiches. I'm vegan and gluten free so I sneaked mine to my mom cause I wanted this lady to like me. She was a classic stoic nordic woman warrior. I knew she’d laugh at my dietary choices. But being born into the meat and potatoes heritage myself and with viking ancestors, I wanted her to respect me… despite my silly actions of hiding my dietary requirements. Later though she offered us whiskey. This was now my chance to shine. I happily took a shot. She warmed up to me instantly. I was also the only one with a real camera in the group (everyone else used iPhones) so she loved that. She ended up giving only me a few more shots and we geeked out over photography, whiskey and the Aurora together. My mom along for the ride the whole time. Mom knows no bounds, she is pure light. She gets even the most unapproachable to warm up to her eventually. In the end the three of us were a real trio. Tipsy and freezing and blissing out.