Little Brute did a fantastic job of giving you the low down what we did, but I can't help but add my two pence to our day in London, our first day there, October 19.
Three years ago, the two world's Derek and I lived as single people clashed; we visited the countries of his mission, Slovenia and Croatia, and then we spent some time in my city, London. I'll never forget how weird it was to walk through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park with him, just as I'd always dreamed of. Sharing Trafalgar Square and Big Ben with Derek meant so much to me. I took him to the Victoria and Albert Museum, where I penned dozens of letters that were then stuck in red post boxes and sent off to Croatia. Those days in 2010 were amazing. It simply whet my appetite however, and here we are again.
Our first destination in London was Westminster. I wanted Henry to see Big Ben first thing. Unfortunately, my sweet little man fell asleep on the Tube between Temple and Westminster and when we stepped out of exit number 3(the first exit I saw Big Ben from), Henry's head was on my shoulder and he was breathing the beautiful rhythm of a sleeping baby. Derek and I enjoyed the moment just the two of us again, and then we made our way to the bank of the Thames so Henry could get some much needed Zzz's in his stroller. When Henry woke up, we were still in Parliament Square. I peeked in to his strolled and saw his wide blue eyes, calmly looking out at a world he had never seen before. His eyes were right on the clock tower of the Houses of Parliament--a moment better than I could have imagined.
The four months I lived in number 27 Palace Court I wished I could share every second with Derek, my best friend. I walked through Hyde Park almost every day wishing his hand was in mine. 2010 gave me the opportunity to fulfill that dream. Yesterday, I got to experience it again. But this time, while Derek and I held hands, we were also pushing a stroller with our favorite little person in the world. Hyde Park is now a place for my family, us three Brutons.
I caught Derek smiling at me as we waited for the train on the Tube. "I just love watching how happy you are here," he said. What he meant was-- "I love watching how happy you are to be in a damp hole in the ground, waiting for a train that is several years old, often crowded, creaky, and sometimes reeks." Well, he's right: being in the Tube makes me incredibly happy. Sometimes, when I'm having a hard time falling asleep, I picture myself waiting for the Tube at Queensway. I can smell the damp cement, hear the clicking of the train as it comes in, feel the whoosh of air as it goes by me, my hair flying up then dropping as the cars go by, the train stopping suddenly. Putting myself in that moment isn't difficult as it's one of those times when I feel happiest with who I am and where I am going (especially if it's to High Street Kensington for some Ben's Cookies).
As we were walking back to the Tube at the end of the day on Saturday, I realized something, which I shared Derek. When I lived in London five and a half years ago, I spent thousands of moments wishing Derek were with me. When I wasn't doing that, I tried to memorize every detail so I could tell him and my family about it in a letter. Every week, without fail, I hopped the Tube to South Kensington, found my way through the V&A to my favorite spot, and using a gel ink pen, wrote a letter to Elder Bruton. When I walk through London now, it's strange to me that Derek doesn't know every Tube stop, every corner, every direction, the way I do. I feel as though he were there with me in 2008, walking the streets and revisiting museums. London is such an important place in my life, that it seems that everyone I love should be there, at home with me, walking through Hyde Park.
No comments:
Post a Comment