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She Welcomes Me by Cathryn Konrad The answer is “No”! No, to my dreams of living in Denmark. No, to grad school. No, to my future. The rain beats on me like a metronome pulsing me with its disgust. I feel drenched with shame. Why do I even try? H2O is a simple compound, one oxygen and two hydrogen atoms hugging each other. Today is anything but simple. My feet shuffle, plodding through the puddles that fill the cobblestoned entryway to two massive wooden doors. The essence of musk permeates the air. Some people love white, sandy beaches or shopping ala Kardashian, for me, the older the building, the better. I arrive at the foot of the oldest cathedral in Denmark. It’s here that I will try to find solace. Inside this UNESCO World Heritage necropolis are the resting places of 39 Danish kings and queens. This is my kind of playground. History has always transported me into another being. Curious, vibrant and brave. I scan the gothic style red bricks which ushered in the design throughout Northern Europe. I can’t help but wonder who I would have been at this time. But what time would I have been in? This edifice began in the 12th century and spanned 200 years of transformation with each new contributor. Scouring the passageway, I slide through tourists hovering around an overpowering golden altar, but I maneuver behind to the Choir section. There are many dignitaries in this cathedral. I am here for only one, Margrethe I. Her first bell rings. Many don’t acknowledge the gravity of her reign. Born a captive by her own father in 1353, married at 10, widowed at 27, childless at 34, she defeated King Albert, uniting Denmark, Norway, and Sweden for a century, through the Kalmar Union. Never christened a queen, but what Danish king can compare? Shivering slightly, I wring the excess water from the bottom of my light blue cotton shirt. I land here in front of her white marble effigy. My hand grazes the sarcophagus, praying some of her conquering soul seeps into mine. I need her strength. Today took me down. Convinced no one will see me, I grasp her cold hands. The scent of gin and almond causes me to turn as another woman enters the alcove. Overshadowed by the broad sweater upon her narrow frame, she limps toward Margrethe. Our eyes lock. Freezing she stops, her umbrella dragging on the marble floor. “Sorry, should I leave,” I stammer apologetically. Her wide eyes dart back and forth. Her chest heaves, but she doesn’t move. “No, of course not,” she replies unsure. “Good, I came especially for her.” “Margrethe! You know who she is?” her high pitched voice asks quizzically. “Yes, I, I…,” I can’t go on. Tears flow down my cheeks scarcely missing my nose. Shifting closer she grabs my hands and a smile shines through the dimness of the chamber. I squeeze back sensing the sharpness of her bones. “I wanted to move here, but I lost the job,” I persevere. Silence overtakes the moment. “No, you lost a job,” she continues. “You’ll find another.” Now, I grin. “Margrethe welcomes you to Denmark,” she pauses, “As do I. Stay with her. I can come anytime.” She clasps my hands again. This time with finality. I’m not sure how long I stay, but the stillness dulls the pain of regret. Margrethe’s second bell rings. I take in what has occurred. I didn’t expect to find a stranger’s kindness. Feeling lighter, I saunter back out, gazing over this small hilltop that overlooks the Roskilde Fjord. Intimidating clouds hide the sun, but I realize the rain doesn’t hurt me as deeply. Next is the Viking Ship Museum. After all, it was Margrethe who created the Danish Navy. It only seems fitting. Who knows what I will find there?