Driftwood Love

25. Under the sea

As Laszlo, Merle, Gregor, and I set out on a clear, sunny morning to the Ocean Museum in Hirtshals, a sense of excitement was in the air. We had heard a lot about this museum and were all eager for the adventures that awaited us.

Upon entering the museum, we were immediately impressed by the vast exhibition hall. Our first steps took us to a gigantic aquarium, where Laszlo, with sparkling eyes, watched the colorful fish and gently swaying seagrass. I couldn't help but share his wonder as we stood hand in hand in front of the huge panoramic window, admiring the underwater world.

In the soft glow of the blue light reflecting in our astonished faces, an unforgettable day at Hirtshals' Ocean Museum began. In front of the majestic aquarium, where an elegant sunfish swam its laps, time flew by. We stood there for half an hour, enveloped in the tranquility of the sea, while my eyes discovered something new and exciting in every corner of the giant tank. Laszlo, the undeterred explorer, nearly flattened his nose against the glass, fascinated by the alien underwater world.

After tearing ourselves away from the hypnotic beauty of the aquarium, Merle, Gregor, Laszlo, and I wandered through the halls of the museum, adorned with the wonders of the oceans. At an interactive excavation station, we discovered the gold of the seas—not coins or jewelry, but knowledge and awareness of the treasures the oceans harbor. With childlike enthusiasm, Laszlo mined for hidden treasures, encouraged by Merle and Gregor.

Undoubtedly, a huge delight for Laszlo was the playground. He climbed, slid, and explored every corner with a zeal only surpassed by his curiosity. We adults took the opportunity to sit on the benches and discuss the many impressions of the day.

However, the absolute highlight of the day was our visit to the marine mammal exhibition. While Laszlo and I stood open-mouthed in front of the whale skeleton, Uncle Gregor began a fictitious conversation with the skeleton about the best techniques for plankton catching, to which Aunt Merle seriously inquired whether whales might have some kind of underwater internet to exchange such information.

At the research stations, we felt like real marine biologists. We observed the fascinating creatures of the ocean, examined samples under microscopes, and learned how delicate the balance beneath the water's surface is. You could even pet some fish.

When hunger struck, we headed for the cafeteria. We shared various snacks and exchanged stories while enjoying the meal. It was a lovely opportunity to connect what we had seen with what we were eating and to think about the significance of the oceans for our nutrition.

The day concluded with a visit to the souvenir shop, where Laszlo carefully chose three tiny plush animals—one mini-sunfish each for Florence, Momo, and his dad. It was a moment full of love and thoughtfulness, perfectly capturing the spirit of our adventure.

With heavy legs but light hearts, we began our journey home. As we drove towards the sunset, I felt a deep gratitude for the day, for the beauty of nature we had experienced, and for the love surrounding my little family and our friends.

That Morten, who hadn't been there because he was working, had invited us to a small fish restaurant, as I learned from Gregor, hit me like a shock—the thing must have cost a fortune. Internally, I screamed: "Really? Is that necessary?" Why he had done that was beyond my logic. I felt terribly obligated to him. My anger at him was hard to contain as I intercepted him in front of the restaurant door.

There he stood, dressed so casually as if he had just come from a beach shoot—with young, good-looking people advertising in casual fashion. He brushed back the hair that had fallen from his loosely tied ponytail, laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, and said with an amused smile, "Hey, no stress, I'm happy to do this for you. The last few days with you were great. This is my thank you. Don't worry, next week I'll be gone faster than you can say 'sunfish.'"

"Ah, you're leaving?" I asked a bit too surprised and couldn't hide a hint of disappointment. He laughed his typical Morten laugh, rumbling and thunderous: "No, but I've noticed you're looking for peace!" We briefly locked eyes.

I felt a bit embarrassed. I wanted to protest, simply shook my head and countered, "No, it's all good, I'm just... let's say 'casually' dressed. I had no idea we were going to such a fancy restaurant." I glanced down at my purple hoodie, jeans, and Chucks.

His touch on my shoulder had sent a strange jolt through me—as if a switch had been flipped inside me.

"You don't have to worry at all, they've known me since I was a kid." I looked up at him, feeling an unexplainable irritation. I wasn't accustomed to such selfless generosity in my life, except from my closest friends Momo, Florence, and of course Aunt Merle and Uncle Gregor. Apart from them, it seemed as though no one ever did anything without an ulterior motive, as if every small gesture was tallied on an invisible scale to be claimed later.

"You're alright," I said, and to my own surprise, my voice sounded softer, almost grateful. The tension that had filled me seconds earlier began to fade, dissolved by his simple gesture. "But you really don't have to do this."

He just smiled, his reply a calm "I know." Those words, simple as they were, unexpectedly reminded me of Florence, who always used to say something similar. "Ah, yes." In that moment, also triggered by the unexpected touch, an inner knot unraveled. A small piece of the wall I had built around myself began to crumble.

Morten's gesture of generosity, so foreign yet so welcome, made me think about the rarity of true friendship and altruistic actions in a world that often seemed to show the opposite.

I followed him into the restaurant, where he was greeted loudly and boisterously in Danish by the staff. They seemed to have a warm and exuberant conversation, as their laughter filled the room. Afterward, we made our way to our table. That evening, we enjoyed the most delicious specialties of the region to our full satisfaction.

"Tomorrow we're visiting our friends," Aunt Merle casually announced. "They bought a cottage here after retiring, have been living here for a few years, and now it's time for a little chat."

Morten, who had been following our conversation, chimed in: "Yeah, I have to go to Hjørring tomorrow. It's the next bigger town. I have some woodwork to deliver and need to sort some things out. Do you want to come along? You can check out the town, they've got great second-hand stores."

"Why not?" I thought and gave him a skeptical sideways glance, which he answered with a cheeky toothpaste-commercial smile. I mean, it offered the perfect chance to explore Hjørring and maybe figure out if I could also go there on my own. "Sounds great. If you're inviting us again, we'd love to join," I said overly nonchalantly and sent him a grimace.

And then, as had become a habit, Laszlo expressed his wish to spend another night at Aunt Merle and Uncle Gregor's. Internally questioning my parenting skills, I nevertheless had to laugh. Of course, I allowed it; it was a good transition for the upcoming weeks.

As I said goodbye, it was already dark, and I looked forward to the peace of the holiday cottage. As I was leaving, Morten said, "You know what, I'll bring the little adventurer tomorrow, and then we can all set off from the cottage. We have to pass by there anyway, then we'll pick you up and head to Hjørring together."

Back at the cottage, I remembered my "emergency cigarette stash." Although I had quit smoking, I allowed myself this little break from time to time: sitting alone, smoking a cigarette, and contemplating life. I had exactly four cigarettes with me, which had been lying around for ages, and their tobacco was probably pretty dry by now.

In the sky, some stars twinkled as clouds slowly gathered. Inside, I started the stove, a skill I had learned from my father. We had heated our home with a tile stove using wood and coal for a long time, so I knew exactly how to get a stove going properly.

As the stove began to spread its cozy warmth, I settled down on the terrace for a moment, wrapped myself in a blanket, and indulgently lit one of the old cigarettes. Everything around me was enveloped in beautiful silence. The stars in the sky, the soft sound of the sea in the distance—in that moment, I felt completely content and at peace with myself. In this peaceful quiet, even an axe murderer could have come without disturbing my calm.

Life could be so beautiful and simple, just like here.