Three
Three weeks ago on this Thursday coming I landed once again in this fair land (England), only to find there were none of the following things waiting for me in Arrivals:
A Victorian circus act, complete with performing fleas
A tattered red carpet
A brass band
The Fuzz
An organ grinder and his monkey
Her Majesty the Queen
What’s that all about? All was not lost of course, because in place of these admittedly overwhelming welcoming devices stood the one thing I have been dreaming about for months and months (nay years) – a boy.
Not just any boy but the boy of my dreams and there he was to receive the red-faced me and my 9 kilos over luggage.
Since then every day has been better than the last. Life is seldom perfect and we always have certain things kicking about to test us, but I am right now as close to pure happiness as one can get.
How lucky can one girl be, really? To be able to wake every morning to receive a kiss from the one who makes her heart thunder like a troupe of wild horses?
Something, somewhere happened and I did something right.
Thank fuck.
If and when you return to Vancouver, I promise you a parade in your honor, a full page ad in the Georgia Straight, and a fireworks show. Also, make your own sundae bar. And a dancing elephant. And a Jason Statham Marathon at the local cineplex.