september came and went

to love the moments in between

September was a month of transitions - from one apartment to another and one season to the next. As warm summer days gave way to crisp fall mornings, I found myself settling into new routines and savoring the stillness in between. 

I remember the early days of September, lying dock-side along the canal in only a bikini, one hand parting my book and the other shielding my face from the bright sun. Late nights biking home at sunset when the sun still set past eight. Joined by friends for dinner and late nights sitting at a wine bar in the center of town. Feeling lucky for an extended summer this year.

We finally visited the Louisiana Museum, on a bright and sunny day. Sweat dripped down our backs as we walked from the train station through the neighborhood streets to the entrance of the museum, stopping on the way to buy a shirt off the side of the street and dropping 50 kroner in someone’s mailbox. We saw the works of exhibitors like Franz Gertsch and lay in the grass in the sculpture garden while drinking white wine and sharing a ham and cheese sandwich from the snack stand outside. We watched as clouds passed above and down below people swam in the glistening waters of the sea.

The following week, it rained almost every day. I made taco soup for dinner, and signed up for 21 days of hot yoga at a studio across town. Biking against harsh winds going east wearing the same fleece I wore many times walking from my apartment in Williamsburg to the J train into Manhattan. September reminded me of April in New York, the end of one season signaling the beginning of another as my nostalgia for the past faded to a deep appreciation for the moment I was in.

On the morning of the Copenhagen half marathon, I dressed in gray track pants and an oversized sweater with Adam’s vintage Ralph Lauren jacket layered overtop. Stopping on our way to lunch, to cheer on the runners from the sidelines as the sun grew warm across the sky. In the late afternoon, children filled the streets with sidewalk chalk alongside vendors at the outdoor flea market as the city sprung to life again on a pre-Autumn day. 

It was a warm day when we walked to see The Little Mermaid Statue while Adam’s mom came to visit; a cold evening when the three of us shared small plates and sipped orange wine at Bottega Barlie. The next day, I bought a slouchy tan sweater and a white linen blazer from Massimo Dutti at Lidkøb, a second-hand shop in Østerbro, not realizing that I’d soon move the blazer to the back of my closet and trade my summer wardrobe for one more suited to layering and staying warm.

As the days grew shorter and the sun set earlier, we traded evening walks to the ice cream shop after dinner for cozy nights at a local wine bar or staying home with a cup of hot tea. Most mornings, we rose early to make coffee at home, careful to measure out 18 grams of freshly ground coffee beans for the V-60. On the days when the shop next door was open, we shuffled in early for a warm bun with melted butter and thinly sliced cheese. These quiet mornings became the ones I looked forward to most—pulling out my journal for morning pages just after Adam left for work, pausing only to watch the people passing by: mostly moms with young children, pushing strollers or stopping in on their way to school.

On the last Sunday in September, we slept in, and I stayed wrapped in the duvet before slowly getting dressed in a thick brown sweater and a long black coat. We walked to a late brunch of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and the best blueberry pancake in Copenhagen, sunlight hitting our well-rested faces as we talked about how, seemingly overnight, it had turned to fall.

As I reflect on the change of another season, I can’t help but recognize the value of staying still to appreciate the moments in between—a chance to slow down, reflect, and set new intentions for the time to come. To water the grass beneath my feet and soak in the abundance of simple moments passing by: taking an extra moment to prepare a cup of coffee or a well-plated meal, noticing the subtle changes in the color of the leaves, and observing how the sun gradually sets earlier each day. I am learning that it’s not the big moments that define our lives, but the small, everyday moments in between.