The story I’m about to tell is one of my favourites.
For those who don’t know, I’ve lived in London, England for the past two years while I finish university. And I’ll admit that despite my great, innate love for London (and Europe), I don’t travel as much as I’d like. (Hopefully, this locked-indoors coronavirus pandemic-thing will lead me to adventurous outings in the coming years.)
But, while being in London, I’ve only travelled a couple of times.
Which is why I suppose I love this story. This adventure came to me.
This was early May last year (2019), meaning the London wind still had a child to it, but the sun was starting to peek through the clearing rain clouds.
I had been there throughout the winter at that point, so my “warmth” was a suede skirt and long sweater. (As a girl who grew up in the state of Georgia and therefore had absolutely no experience dressing for winter, me making fashion decisions which look cute and still kept me warm is a big deal.)
into a pub.
Let me back up.
This actually began a few days prior when I was scrolling Instagram instead of doing homework. It was one of those procrastination-fueled excavations that had me scrolling through the feeds of old friends I don’t talk to anymore. Like, from decades ago.
I searched my best friend from elemantary/primary school–who’s now married and has an adorable one-year-old daughter. I reconnected with one of my high school teachers–who’s now teaching at a neighbouring school and has earned her doctorate (Yay!).
Then, I searched up a dear friend from junior high with whom I’d lost touch after her family moved out-of-state. We’ll call her Vanessa (mostly because that’s her name).
Vanessa was that very-friendly, highly-stylish friend all us girls wanted to be. She and I met and became friends in the 6th grade (at about 11 years old). (We later learned our brothers had been in the same class one year prior, so our families already knew each other. We were just late to the party.)
Our friendship was a true kid-friendship, the kind that’s built on shared books and overnights and study-partners. We were only close for two years (before she transferred to another school and eventually moved away), but Vanessa is someone I still think back on as a dear friend.
(In fact, I’m pretty sure I still have a book she lent me all those years ago… *lol*)
The point is, I was feeling nostalgic when I looked her up.
Her profile wasn’t hard to find. I scrolled through her photos, stopping on one of her holding a teacup. I laughed out loud, thinking, “Oh my god, this girl loves tea. I knew we were destined to be friends.”
This photo was particularly flattering.
Her blond hair falling over her shoulder while she held up her fine china teacup and saucer with a velvet room divider behind her and her red lipstick matching her nail polish. She was exactly how I remembered her.
The caption read: ‘”There is something in the nature of tea that leads us into a world of quiet contemplation of life.” ~ Lin Yutang, The Importance of Living #kensingtonpalace #teatime #secretgarden‘
Stupid me, just kept scrolling.
She’s so photogenic! I just wanted to double-tap on all her pretty photos.
She had several photos attached to each post, and it took me longer than I’d care to admit to realize all these photos were recent. Posted in the previous few days, in fact.
I went straight into there DM: “UM, WHY ARE YOU IN ENGLAND?! COME SEE ME!!!”
“Are you here?!” was her response, to which I replied that I lived here now and I wanted to know if we could meet up.
She was excited as I was—which is always a good feeling—and we planned to do some exploring in Central later that week.
So, fast-forward: I was able to meet her by the river in Southbank where she was finishing touring with her family. I didn’t get to see her family, but she wished them well for me.
She and I went to Covent Garden to have tea at a favourite French tea place called ‘Mariage Frérès’, dinner at a local pub called ‘The White Lion’, and then drinks at my favourite watering hold in Central: ‘The Old Bank of England’.
There was a part of me that was afraid she had drastically changed. We hadn’t seen (or spoken to) each other in twelve years at that point.
But it was a total waste of worry.
In the way best friends do, we picked up like no time had passed at all. We slipped right back in sync with one another and promised we wouldn’t go another twelve years without seeing each other again.
I, unfortunately, had to reschedule my Labor Day trip down to her new house last September due to the status of the world. However, I have every intention of going down there when this is all over.
I texted her as much today. Bet I get a smiley-face in return.
As a ’90s baby (and therefore a Millennial despite my best efforts), I’ve known social media has this kind of magic when it comes to reconnecting people. I’d seen it happen, but I’d never had the joy.
Until that lovely evening in the City.
And while it was a couple days early for my birthday, it really was the best gift!
