"We trade our dreams for what we call wisdom. I wonder..... if it is a good trade."
- Charles Dickens, 'David Copperfield'


As the days rush by in their hectic pace, I find myself longing to be back in London.

Perhaps a soul who has lived their whole life in that far city would find my fondness quaint. They might even correct me in my skewed view of that place, telling me that it is not so lovely... not so enchanting. Their fingers would wag at the crowds packing the Underground during rush hour, or stab at the morning paper to show me the politics of the day. They would try and wave the banner of the day to day grind before me, to dissuade my eyes from seeing the beauty and charm. Sad, really... that they would so eagerly try to steal away such a jewel. Hostile, even... in their zeal to prove that the world holds no magic. If I were to turn my ears to their words, they would gladly fill my thoughts with belching black smoke and mechanical living. Work, eat, sleep. Perhaps a moment in between to spew a bitter comment or two, then back into the routine. Is that such a fair trade...for the fanciful dreams I hold dear?

So I cast off those thoughts, those words... and return to the city as I saw it. I close my eyes and smell the rain washing the cobbles clean just past Trafalgar Square. I was standing beneath the paws of a giant lion statue at dusk, when in the distance I saw the face of Big Ben flash to life. It was the moment I realized a lifelong dream had come true. I was in LONDON. I was standing in the heart of it, with days of adventure before me. That tiny pinpoint on the National Geographic map that I had plotted out when I was 10 years old.... was now beneath my feet. That very place on the postcard I received from a penpal in my teens.... was surrounding me. I could hear the fountains behind me. How long had I stared at those fountains, with the people sitting on the edge? The postcard was dogeared from staring at it, imagining what might be down those narrow lanes. Now I knew... I could see Big Ben from Trafalgar Square. I was amazed!!! It was a gift. I drank in the moment. I lit the square up with a flash from my camera... and then all went back to normal. The November winds blew through the bare limbed trees.

I was on the edge of living out so many daydreams. Where to next?? The Teahouse over on Neal Street perhaps? Yes... the tea shop, where I would buy loose leaf tea in small white bags. They would be stashed away and doled out carefully, each cup taking me back to that place so fragrant with spice. I smiled at the thought that the tea itself was going to be making a journey...wrapped in plain brown paper and sent back to the States to await my arrival. I loved the idea of a tiny bit of London beating me home.

With my goods paid for, I wandered out to stand on the sidewalk and watch the traffic light up the lane. I didn't know that I was about to follow the path down to the woman selling flowers on the corner. I didn't know I was about to buy a bouquet of roses to dry them, so that I might have their petals even after my return home. All I knew was that I was just outside of a perfect little shoppe, with windows stashed full of teapots and hand painted cups... listening to the voices of the others still inside talking about Darjeeling and Earl Grey.

And that is exactly where I want to be right now. On the verge of not knowing. Being a breath away from taking the first steps onward to the rest of my adventure....and being ready to draw it all in to my senses. I want to be standing right there in front of the The Teahouse, smelling spice and rain.