"Like the waves make towards the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end."--Sonnet 60, William Shakespeare 

Dear memories,

It all ended so cleanly, like sealing a compressed letter inside an envelope.  My flight took off at 10 am on Saturday; I saw on my ticket that my destination was Charlotte Douglas International Airport.  I didn't realize this was my last time drinking actually decent English breakfast tea, or that I had made my last purchase at Portobello Market last Saturday, or that I would never step foot back in LAMDA (the current building is being torn down for a snazzy, remodeled version).  London molded me, made me into a city person who is too impatient to take the bus and walks instead, or takes the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.  Suddenly I realized I'd be stretched back out to my previous form, and would have to drive everywhere in Charlotte, would have to be courteous to pedestrians instead of being one of those bouncing walkers.  My mom would be cooking meals for me, no more microwavable 2-minute Uncle Ben's rice.  Is it odd that I grew such an affinity for instant rice?  Is it odd that I enjoyed concocting my own meals and washing my own dishes in the sink, not with a dish washer?  Then again, I would be back in a comfortable mattress (no thanks there, NIDO), my feet would wake up to fuzzy shag carpet, not freezing wood floors.  Bubba, the faithful body-wagging lab, would greet me at the front door, inspecting every element of my being, down to my vintage ring from the Vienna marketplace.   I thought I could handle the transition, as huge as it was.  I figured I'd just relive my London memories in a hazy day dream for a few minutes every day.  Well to be honest, it's a lot harder than that.  It's hard to pick up the life you've crafted for three and a half months, all the habits and patterns, all the friends from LAMDA and silent acquaintances on the tube, all the meals at the Polish cafe and the grocery store runs after a long day at school.  It's not even that I've picked up my life that I established, I literally just dropped it.  I sealed it away in an envelope that I keep neatly filed in the back of my mind, and I dare every once in a while to open it just a pinch and let a few memories hop out for a dance.  I know that envelope and the document it holds so carefully will stay crisp and clean.  And every once in a while, I'll read it again and indulge in that life I so dearly miss and treasure.  

I'll love you forever, London.  I'll love all those who were my partner in the Breathing Station exercise in Stevie's voice class, who endowed me behaviors and characteristics in improv scenes, who let their breath synchronize with mine during movement class on Fridays.  I'll love the addictive hot chocolate in the common room, and the 23 bus that dropped us off directly at our apartment.  I'll love the Portobello Market and the entreating vendors.  I'll love the fast dances at the Archangel Club, and the slow hugs in the hallways at NIDO.  I'll love loving those moments.  

Cheers, 
Katie 

P.S. I'll see you again soon.  I promise.