Memories of London

 

The plane landed in a cloud of mist.  The drizzle of the rain was the warm embrance merry old England had to offer for my arrival.  I smile to myself, thinking that I would not have it any other way.

Heathrow full of travelers going to places all over the world whilst I find my way to the one who waits.

Collecting my baggage and heading out to the lines of faces waiting for someone to arrive back into their lives.  I'm a new arrival for the one who waits.  The one who waits walks amongst the throng of people in line never taking eyes off of me.  

At the end of line, the one who waits greets me with much affection and something else.  Perhaps relief that I've finally arrived, and later states, " I can't believe that you here."  Said as if a dream has come to fruition.

The one who waits looks down at my hands when saying this.  I compare how the large the hands of the one who waits enfold my small hands.  The one who waits looks at my hands as if they are some treasure to be cherished.  If only the one who waits knew how much I cherished the hands that enfolded mine.

On the double decker bus we ride, "It's the best way to see London," the one who waits says.  We come to our stop at the National Gallery in Trafalgur Square to see an exhibit I've always wanted to see.  "Be sure to quickly get off the bus, because it does not stop for long," the one who waits says.  I do just that whilst he is at the bottom step when the bus takes off.  The one who waits gets off at the next stop and when he joins me I say, "You didn't get off the bus quickly."  The one who waits laughs and a passerby takes our picture.

Walking along the Thames, seeing England from the Great London Eye.  Can see so far, but I am more than content to be with the one who waits for such a presence is more lovely than any view of London.

In the tube waiting for our train.  "Don't get too close to the yellow line," says the one who waits.  "Don't worry, I won't fall I say."  All the same, the one who waits beckons me close and arms surround me holding me close.  

Our bodies become one there on the platform.  I do not where I begin and where the one who waits ends.  We cling to one another, just wanting to be as close as possible, like magnets.

Later as the one who waits brings me to the airport, I just keep thinking how I don't know if I can leave the one who waits.  When it's time for me to go through customs, we embrace and I look at the one who waits knowing this may be the last time we are together.  The one who waits looks in my eyes and knows what I'm thinking and says, "We'll talk when you get back home."  

Looking back at the one who waits whilst walking away, I think how I just want to run back and never leave.  It hurts too much to be away from the one who waits.

We did talk when I got back home, but over time life and situations separated us.  I wish the one who waits knew just how much I wish there was no more waiting but that we could be together and not have to be apart.