10 months ago to the day (left on September 18, returning on July 18) I stood in front of Peter's building as I went off to do errands and he left for work. We cried. Then he walked away, and I turned around and cried some more, then sat on a bench and tried to will the crying away so I could carry on with my final day errands.
I just walked The Other Libby outside in a somewhat similar act of "goodbye avoidance". I had to mail a letter and she is off to this big arts festival, Latitude. We walked along, talking about the most mundane things as if nothing was happening. I put my letter in the red pillar box, dropped off some clothes in a bin to donate, and then, we couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. I tried to hug her around her big camping backpack and tried not to cry. But, as she walked away, I did. I didn't look back because I couldn't. I just refuse to believe that, after ten crazy months together, I won't be living with The Other Libby anymore. She has done so much for me, from telling me where to drink too expensive cocktails to understanding when I'm moody, stressed, or crying. She saw me through a couple of really rough patches this year, and helped me celebrate some exciting milestones. She translated British English for me, and made fun of the way I said "basil", "tomato" and, well, almost everything. Most of all, she helped me adjust here and feel connected to this city in a way that I probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for her. That is an invaluable gift that I hope I have a chance to repay in New York one day. From a misstep with another potential housemate and a random ad on Gumtree, I managed to find myself a life long friend. For that, I consider myself very, very lucky.
And, hopefully, this sentimental rambling will make her FINALLY read my blog!
So much has happened since I last posted. Pam visited for a week and we had a fabulous time doing touristy, and non-touristy, things in London. When she left, Andrew came, my Dad joined two days later, and then I graduated. Officially a "professionally trained art historian." After they left, it has been a long two weeks of goodbyes, packing, and running around the city like a mad woman. I've also been quite the "lady of leisure" with sitting in parks, having long meals, and just hanging out with friends. It has been busy, emotional, and great. And now, faster than I ever could have imagined, the end has come. I leave tomorrow and return to New York, ending this whirlwind year of studying and living in our neighbor to the east.
It is always said that life is cyclical but it seems like nothing more than a tired expression until you really notice how true it is. When I first got here, I had a million different strands of life that had to be sorted out and put in place: living, banking, phoning, bearing finding, etc. All of those different strands got woven into each other to form the consistency and comfort of my life here. As this year winds to a close, I have found myself unraveling the cord and returning it to its original, unbound state. Today, I went to the phone shop where I spent many hours ten months ago trying desperately to get a phone contract and ended said contract. I have passed the store almost every day since but have not been in since October. Similarly, I visited the Courtuald Gallery which I, sadly and to much regret, have not visited since that first trip with my Dad. I have also, in the past few days, been to areas such as Hampstead, Camden and this small square near Paddington that I had been to right at the start but not returned to subsequently. Furthermore, just like how we all met organically and in small groups, eventually coalescing into the static and strong group of six girls--Molly, Allana, Kathering, Cameron, and Jen--I have been slowly saying goodbye to each of them and many others in small and often anticlimactic ways. These are moments, like when we met, that seem fairly insignificant when they are happening but will certainly grow to occupy an important place in my memory.
Without even reading back to the beginning of this blog, I know that one of my first posts talked about how I had a heightened sense of perception of the world around me in the last few days in New York. That acute awareness has returned. I've been looking at everything today, from the beautiful Somerset House where I went to school, to the grungy, annoying tube stop that I get off at, with a different set of eyes. I am appreciating the world around me more and preparing to miss it terribly. It is unfortunate that I cannot go around life with these glasses all of the time, but it would be impossible. Instead, I am trying to visually--optically and photographically--cement the sensations of my London. It is so easy to gripe and moan about something when it is your day to day existence but, as that existence threatens to disappear, you realize how wonderful it is and bemoan the fact that you did not appreciate it more.
She may think this review is average, but I think it's pretty great and prestigious for someone her age and experience. So I'm going to brag for her. And I'll let you know what I think, not that I'm as qualified as Michael Billington (a well known theater critic) when I see it with Andrew on Saturday.
