Yesterday was beautiful.
The night before, Annie Hunter walked out of the elevator in the Thistle Garden Hotel and she met the real Rachel. For much of the year before, I had been someone else, even unrecognizable to myself, until just a few days ago.
We spent some quality time at a nice English pub called "The Swan," similar too The Swan that Patrick Whitmore takes me to in Manchester. There, we hung out with this boy she went to high school with named Brian, who is also on the road to re-discovering who he really is. We connected immensely. The three of us drank and were merry and could not believe this was all really happening.
Anyway, more about yesterday (as it was, quite beautiful!). Annie and I woke up at five am the next morning. For her, the culprit was jet lag, for me, the culprit was excitement, astonishment, and a sense of revelry. One of my best friends was back, I was back, we were in London, and I was about to witness her embarkation on the first leg of her adventure.
At five, we caught up, laying in the dark and laughing. By seven, our stomachs were raging and we went to the complimentary breakfast given to us by the hotel. HELLO chocolate croissants! Then, as waves of jet lag hit her again, a walk to Hyde Park was in order for me.
It was so refreshing, being with my friend, making new ones, and having total confidence in the person I was introducing them to, myself. How could I have forgotten so easily who I had become over the course of my life? Over Africa, China, over the schools I went to, the people I met? Ah, we can be so silly sometimes.
So, so silly.
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