I remember when I first came to Denmark. My mum and I arrived to the small island in the Northern Danish sea called KatTegat that was mostly home for fishermen and a few farmers. We took a walk on a very foggy day – the air was so white that you could not even see the sea when you stood and looked directly down the road that led to the harbor.
Suddenly, like a ghost, a howl sounded in the mist, as if the entire city was moaning. I remember we stopped as the small hairs on our arms rose and chills ran down our spines. What was it? I wondered. I was merely 6 years old at that time. I remember it so clearly that we made an adventure out of finding where the sound came from. Another howl was heard and strangely it was like it came from the hidden sea itself. Like a mysterious lonely monster that had driven too close to the shore.
We had to wait for my stepdad to come home from his fishing trip to tell us about this mystery sea monster. It was no such thing (sadly). It was the lighthouse that howled when the fog was so thick that not even its light could reach out to the boats on the sea. Helping them and guiding them to land. Ever since then I have always loved that strange siren of the lighthouse. It reminded me of home.