A few weeks before my scheduled trip to London, an unexpected parcel arrived in the mail; in it, I found gifts from a person I'd never met. At the time, I was distraught at missing out on all the fun everyone seemed to be having, so you can imagine the utter shock I felt, opening the box to discover this:
I have been back in Montreal for nearly two weeks and have
started to write this more times than I care to count. Truthfully, I started to
write it that Friday night after the play, but found the experience too
emotional, too personal.
My week in London,
was, for lack of a better word, magic. It may sound cliché, in fact, I know it
sounds cliché, but that’s how it felt.
I had the opportunity to meet wonderful people, see
beautiful sites and be a small part of something I’d dreamt of for nearly half
a year. In a nutshell, that’s the problem. Putting so much emphasis on
something, and using it as a touchstone, is a dangerous game.
Truthfully, I’m not going to bother with the intimate
details of the trip, for they are mine, and I’m not going to name drop to
justify my place in the fandom. I’m not even going to review the play. I was
blessed to be able to see it on two occasions, and both performances were
refreshingly different and deeply captivating.
Moments sparkled. I felt peace for the first time in years.
I told myself the trip was a gift to myself, but it was oh so much more than
that. Even now, I find myself unable to fully articulate what I want to say.
How much I want to say thank you. I don’t consider myself an emotional person,
but I find myself fumbling to find the words I need to express the myriad of
feelings in my heart.
"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that
what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”~ Epicurus
