My First England Trip (Day Seven) Sunday (May 5, 2013)

      I woke at 6am and just stared at the ceiling of my room. There was no hangover, but something was keeping me from rising. Of course, I had felt this familiar feeling in Bath Spa. This is my last day here, I thought. I wondered what I should do? I could visit the Eye or travel on the tube again. Where would I go? Instead, I remained in bed until 9am. When I did get up, I realized that I had to finish packing. While my original pack was ready to go, the extra items from the Harry Potter studios and Harrods had to be packed separate. I found myself having to buy another bag and then double and triple checked so that nothing would be left behind. After all, this wasn't my friend's house where I could just call and say, "Hey, I'll be over in a second. I forgot this." This was a 9 hour flight back.

     I checked out at 10:20 and caught the tube to Heathrow Terminal 1. At every stop I kept looking at the open doors. They beckoned me to dash out and try to stay a few more days. During one stop, a man got on with his two kids. They were dressed in suits and ties and the oldest son (about 9 maybe) was complaining about something. I didn't pay much attention to them as I gathered my things, ready to leave at the next stop. The doors opened and I stood. I was going to run and get lost. Before I could take a step, the man turned to the boy and said, "What did I tell you? Worries won't help you. You need to stop and appreciate what you already have." The doors closed and we started to move again. I sat back down, those words echoing in my head. They weren't meant for me, but I needed to hear them. I had wanted to run because I was afraid I would never get back here. What I was failing to realize was that I needed to appreciate the experience I had already had. I wouldn't be able to do that while on the run.

    The tube arrived at Heathrow at 12:25pm. I found that my flight was delayed, so I browsed the shops and bought some last minute gifts. Around lunch, I found my flight was rescheduled for 3:40pm. Originally, I had planned to sit in the middle aisle, but when given the option to change seats, I took a window. With my seat change, I found myself sitting next to young woman who had been to Europe for a college trip. She shared some of her experiences such as when their small cargo plane missed the landing and had to veer up at a steep incline to try again. I made her jealous by telling her about my trip to the Harry Potter Studios and both of us shared the snacks we had brought on board. The announcement was made for take off and I watched out the window as we moved onto the strip. We started forward, faster and faster, the plane angling up. I checked my watch. 3:55pm is when the plane lifted off the England ground. It was my last contact with London. I watched as the city below stretched for miles and miles, their districts indistinguishable to my eye. But in those streets and buildings sat a culture that I had only touched on. I wanted to know more, I needed to know more. As the plane flew up into the clouds and the city disappeared, I felt my journey in England, my first trip by myself, was over.

      I heard the soulful melody We'll Meet Again by The Ink Spots (Stanley Morgan's Ink Spots Live in London) as we broke through the clouds to the bright sun. I knew the words rang true for me:

'We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when
but I know we'll meet again some sunny day
keep smiling through, like the world needs to do
til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away

And won't you please say hello to the folks we all know
tell them we won't be long
they'll be happy to know, that as you saw us go
we were singing this song.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when
but I know we'll meet again some sunny day.'

...Until we meet again, England.

Philip M. Warden