By the time we had landed in London we had already formed
our own click and established our roommates.
There were 6 of us that had bonded over cigarettes, weed, beers and fear
of the unknown. Tegan was the lanky,
tall, shy guy with a hint of internal angst hippie from the middle of nowhere,
Jason was the sweet and stalky outdoorsy intellect from Maine and Joel was the snarky,
grumpy Jew from NYC. The other new
female addition besides Maris and I was Liz, the unique, crass spirit from
Colorado that twirled her hair and sucked her thumb. I equated her behavior to an intense phallic
tendency and left it at that.
And so there we had it.
Our own little ‘Real World’ – 6 strangers set to live in a house, on a
street, in London.
Despite the odds of what we were told we found a place
fairly quickly. Of course it was over
budget, two blocks away from the University and smack dab in the middle of
Kensington but we didn’t care. We even
had an old crotchety landlord named Mr. Darcy which we considered to be an
obvious sign that the house had to be ours. It was a 3 story brownstone; it fit us all
perfectly so we settled in. 35
Sutherland Place off of Westbourne Grove.
A street lined with brownstones, a church and pubs nearby. Perfect.
The first night in our new home we sat in our enormous
living room with windows taller than each of us. We had scored some hash at the local pub and
told stories of our lives as we smoked and poured back pints. For what was so new and strange we all seemed
to comfortably mold into our new reality.
We talked about ‘rules’, and having family dinners every Sunday and of
all of the places that we would travel while on our breaks. Every moment was an oyster to be opened to
find some new and beautiful possible path.
From the get go it was pretty clear what roles we would all
play. Maris was the social butterfly and
had more friends and plans in the first 48 hours than many of us had for our
entire tenure there however she made it easy for us to just tag along when we
felt like it. Liz was oddly reclusive
and spent a lot of time having phone sex with her boyfriend back in
Colorado. Joel always seemed to be
networking. Jason spent a lot of time
exploring the city and mapping out all that he wanted to see and
experience. Tegan and I spent a lot of
time scraping the bowl of my bong trying to get high. We were the poorest of the group so our
options were always more limited. We had
an affinity towards each other given our financial predicament and often talked
about books, poetry and shared our love of music. I was fortunate enough to have my own bedroom
on the third floor and the view from my window was roof and chimney tops. It was a peaceful hideaway for us to unlock
the mysteries of the world. We were good friends. He was like a little brother.
When I wasn’t in school I was meandering around Kensington
Park, or sitting in the Pub writing in my journal, writing letters, bantering
with new found friends or calling home and filling Delilah in on every detail
of my not so interesting life. I was melding
and molding in. Trying to avoid seeming
like a tourist.
My first three weeks in London I never saw the sun. Not once.
Not the sun or the moon. It was
cloudy in the day and cloudy in the night and for all appearances was exactly
how I had anticipated London to be. But
I missed my moon and I felt far away from everyone that I loved. Regardless of how at home I had felt
instantly upon arriving. I was in transition.
But perhaps that’s what I need to explain. London.
The moment my feet hit the ground in London I knew I was
home. I knew that I had spent lifetimes
there before and that whatever and wherever this city would bring me, I would
be home. I was home. Everything made sense without any effort at
all. However I was waiting for the soul
bit. As an intuitive I was driven to
London to find something, to understand something that perhaps I had been
transitioning lifetimes through to grasp and here was my chance and I was
missing it hiding in my chimney top bedroom taking hits from a bong seeking out
the meaning of life as opposed to the meaning of my reason for being
there. None of which I really knew. I just knew at the time there was nowhere
else that I was supposed to be.
We do these things…we follow senses and sources. We wind up in countries and places with
people and faces because we know not where else to be. Some are just steps; some are columns….all of
which is determined along the way. And
so I was. There. With a lesson and no teacher. Floating in comfortable ambivalence with a
love of a city, an air, energy and not understanding why it was I chose to be
thousands of miles across from my life to find my life. The irony was exhausting. Something was supposed to be but it wasn’t - yet.
And then I met Dave.
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