Mango Tree

I’ve been in London all week, though that hardly seems worth mentioning.

It has been one of those trips where I have seen nothing but the inside of my office, meeting rooms, my hotel room, and the hotel gym, since it is a) the last week of high mileage before the marathon, and b) the time of year when the light is small this far north in latitude.

Truth be told, it has all been kind-of a logistical mess. 

Nothing…works.  The flight was delayed; the room is All Wrong.  I am terribly spoiled, and I stay at some of the nicest hotels in the world, and I was somehow booked into a room where they had to come and replace the door, because it was so jammed.  Where they had to come and bring me extra lamps because it was so dimly lit.  Where the faucet for the shower came off in my hand.

They were very nice about it.  But still.

So I went to dinner with my friend Rach on Wednesday, since I hadn’t seen her since July, when D and I met Rach and her husband for dinner at Chez Bruce, which we all loved.  This time, I insisted upon Thai food.  Since this was the last week of high mileage before taper, I was inhaling just about every foodstuff in sight.

Rach is one of my friends whom I feel as if I have Always Known.  When we met, when D and I were sort-of dating a few years back — when he’d convinced me to come back to London from Edinburgh — it was as if we were friends already from the start.  And we have been friends ever since.

So she had said Belgravia?, and I had said Thai? and she had said Okay and Wednesday had been A Date.

We talked about Stuff and Things and Life and Change, and how everything could be so quickly different in just two and a half years — which it was.

Just about two years prior, we had been sitting — wine soaked — in an Italian restaurant in SoHo in New York, talking about the future and the past, and things that might but would never come to pass.  But we didn’t know that then.  We didn’t know what would and would not be.  We just knew that we were meant to be friends.

So there we were in the Present Day — eating Thai and drinking gin and talking about husbands and partners and yoga and work and the future and the things that may or may not come to pass.  And nothing had worked all week for me.  Nothing had lined up; the logistics had been all wrong.  For heaven’s sake, the shower handle had come off in my damned hand!

But I had great friends, and great possibilities, and I was surrounded by these terrific people with whom I could speculate and postulate and wonder about such wonderful things to come.

What a charmed life I live.

We finished the night closing down the restaurant and said our goodbyes as the evening turned frigid.  Even when things seem wrong, really, they are All Right.

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