We have only a few hours before we leave Oslo for the airport. We have said goodbye to our apartment and turned in the keys. The hotel that we stayed at on our first nights in Norway graciously agrees to hold our luggage so we can zip across town to the Munch Museum.

Munch is not for everyone. I am not sure why I am drawn to his bold and often bizarre style. I wasn’t going to visit as it is not my husband’s thing. But I have three final hours and here I am. I am standing in a gallery of upside down paintings by Bakelite, a German artist. Bold and extreme, his work is interesting but not for me.

Munch is more subtle. His work is understated emotion. The pieces fluctuate from defined elegance to manic cries. The Scream is iconic. A visual display of internal anxiety. He said that he heard the scream of nature.

The museum houses pieces from childhood to bohemian adulthood to mental illness phases to recovery and old age. One room allows me to sit for a portrait while an automated easel allows me to converse with the artist while he works. I am intrigued and surrounded by his easels and brushes. I examine woodcuts and sculptures and paintings.

A few galleries exhibit new artists. One room was simply party streamers and a giant hill on which to recline. Modern art really isn’t for me. But Munch….. I internalize…. I feel….

Before I know it, my time with Munch is over. So is our time in Oslo. We board our train and arrive at the airport hotel. Our flight leaves before dawn and we want to sleep a bit. It is also our anniversary.

We celebrate quietly with a good meal in the hotel restaurant. We spend some time reviewing our weeks in Norway. We have been here forever and yet just arrived…. Long stays are like that. There is never enough time and yet….it will be nice to be home.