Ankolm is the small town where I was living in Norway, some years ago.
It’s a quiet residential area in Levanger, and one of those areas where the kids run around free in the streets and play wherever they want. . Nearly no cars pass the streets around my house, and the neighborhood doors are always open.
The summer of 1995 was warm and sunny, and this particular day was extra hot. The only reasonable outfit was shorts and no shirt. In order to get a break from the warm sun, I decided to read the newspaper in my living room. The room was a one floor up from the entrance, so I could hear when someone was entering. Suddenly I heard small footsteps moving in the hallway and up the stairs. It was Anders looking at me, an eight year old neighborhood blond boy who often came over to play with our kids. Anders had probably never seen me without a shirt before, because he stood speechless, looking at me with his big eyes. Then he pointed at my stomach, where my ostomy bag was clearly visible above my pants.. “What is that?”, he asked. I looked over the newspaper and replied, “Anders, this is the way I poop. I poop with my stomach, and therefore I need to wear a bag.”
Anders stood still for a while. Said nothing. Totally silent, with his mouth wide open. Then he ran down the stairs and disappeared. I continued with the reading of today’s news. About ten minutes later, I heard footsteps in the hallway again. Anders came back, but this time he had brought a friend. Now two boys were looking at my stomach. Anders pointed at me to show his big surprised friend:
“THERE HE IS !!”
I have often thought about what Anders was telling his friend, before taking him to look at the new neighborhood landmark … 
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