On Standby in the Far North
January 19, 2026
It's been two years now: we've been living up here in the north of Denmark. A sentence that sounds so calm and yet carries so much movement within it.
Our move back then wasn't a single event, but a process. Half a year spent traveling between two lives. Filling cars, loading trucks, driving off. Over 1100 kilometers per trip.
Sometimes twice, sometimes three times a month, Michael sometimes even four times. Back and forth. Again and again between our old home in Germany and our new home here in the north. And it really went like clockwork.
Fill the car, drive, unload, put things away and briefly arrive. One day to catch your breath, maybe a second chance to sleep in, a glance at the sea, wind in your face. Then back again. It was exhausting, yes.
But it was good stress. Positive stress. Carried by anticipation, by purpose, by meaning. The kilometers felt light.
We drove them without counting them.
Today that feels far away.
Now the eighth week of the calendar is approaching. And whoever knows Denmark knows: this week is... nothing. Really nothing. No holiday, no bright spot, no sense of beginning. Gray on gray. Dreary. The days are short, the mood subdued, and you have the feeling that everywhere the curbs are literally being flipped up.
Whoever can afford it, or whoever feels the need, flies south this week. Soaking up the sun. Warmth on the skin. Vitamin D, without pills.
For me, that's not an option right now. Not at all.
And yet: I really should go to Germany. There are things to settle. Things to take care of. Conversations. Thoughts that have accumulated and weigh heavy on my soul. Really nothing unusual and yet the path there feels almost insurmountable right now.
I might want to travel alone.
By car? No. That's too much for me right now. Way too much. The distance, the concentration, the solitude on the highway. All of that suddenly feels heavy, where it once felt almost natural.
So I looked at the train connections. Rationally. Sensibly. And environmentally friendly.
And of course it's construction season right now. Tracks are being renewed. In Denmark, that means: rail replacement service. Bus instead of train. Changing trains, waiting, hoping everything works out. And that's too much for me right now too.
So here I sit now. Not really stuck, but not in motion either.
Between the desire to drive off and the exhaustion holding me back. Between knowing that I really only need to make a few decisions, and the feeling that right now every decision costs energy.
Maybe this too is part of life up here in the north. These weeks in which nothing happens and in which there's even more movement on the inside. Maybe it's not a standstill, but a pause. A brief suspension.
Right now it feels like I'm hanging a little in the air. And maybe that's exactly what this time of year demands of me: not an immediate solution, but first an acknowledgment of this state.
