People I met in Copenhagen

 It’s 10 pm but, as if someone painted it, the sky is still a mix of gold and blue. Chapel bells ring and I can even see a steeple in the distance. We’re in Copenhagen on a June night. I take a moment to soak it in; I never imagined I’d be brave enough to do something like this. Across from me are my roommates, two strangers whom I’ve just met. We sit on a picnic table tucked away among trails in a park and pass around a wine bottle. Over tipsy giggles and random questions, we bond over the exciting loneliness of being in a new country alone. I realize even new people can feel familiar when you’re out of your element. For the next day, we make a plan to visit the independent region to buy some more agents of relaxation.

I walk through cobblestone streets and over canals to my childhood best friend’s dorm. As we set off to explore the city for the day, I take another moment to look over at her. I feel so lucky to have a piece of home in the chaos of a new country. Like the little girls we once were, we jump on trampolines in the street together. As I fly up, I remember what laughing with her in my parents’ backyard feels like. Nina and I have been friends since second grade, when we became reading buddies. Just as we first learned to be nerdy together, we spend the days in museums and art galleries. 

In class, I sit next to a friendly girl named Lily. When our class travels to Florence, we find similarities over pasta, meat, cheeses and too much bread. Neither of us holds back, in celebration of being in Italy. As we walk through gardens and monuments, she asks me to stay the weekend with her. In that moment, I stop questioning whether I can make friends and stand a little taller. 

Each of these people demonstrated how loneliness lives in my head. For even halfway across the world I was able to find ounces of comfort and great amounts of friendship.