Perhaps that photo will need to be displayed in our house one day. I noticed the sign for the Serpentine (art) Gallery, with free admission. Would they let me in at the end of my run, hot and sweaty in my running clothes? Hmm, probably not the best idea. The Brits don't do that. Besides, I might not come back this way anyhow. Oh well, another day. As I continued on, swerving around the strollers, dogs, and geese, I noticed that the paddle-boats are available again, and thought happily of the day Bryan and I went paddle-boating in the Serpentine last summer. Oh, and the Lido Cafe just beside the Serpentine - still haven't made it there. Shoot. Probably overpriced anyway. Mmm...but the food sure smells good. Before I knew it, I had reached the end of Hyde Park, and fondly remembered the Kings of Leon concert that we listened to on the grass one summer, passing by the field on which Bryan used to play American football ages ago.As I curved around the edge of the park, I began to have a think about what I might write in our very last blog, in a couple months time. I'd better write some of these ideas down when I get home from this run, lest I forget. How would the blog end? How would we say goodbye? Yes, that's sounding good...With the last few sentences of our final blog set in my mind, I returned to the present moment, noticing the way the sunshine was creating a hazy backdrop to the trees, still in stark winter dress. Why don't I have my camera? I hate when I don't have my camera. Look at everyone else taking pictures. I'll have to take some photos of my close friends in the next few weeks, during our final coffee and dinner dates. Maybe some crazy, fun photos too! Ooh, a collage would be cool. Reaching the corner by Queensway station, I remembered the chap who used to be out there selling roasted chestnuts some time ago. Hmm, when was the last time I saw him? Must be at least a year or so now. Hanging a left to run along inside Kensington Gardens, I saw signs for the Orangery, and thought longingly that I must find time for one more afternoon tea there before we leave. I love that place. When would I be able to go? Has Ruth been there before? Maybe she'd like to join me. Maybe this Sunday - no, we already have plans Sunday. Huh, I'll have to figure that out.
As I trotted along the wide center pathway, with the Round Pond up ahead on my left, and Kensington Palace up ahead on my right, I began to slow down, as police officers were guiding onlookers to one side of the path. I squinted my eyes in the sunlight. Why are all those guards standing outside the Palace? Wait, what day is it today? The new exhibition opens there on March 25. Is it the 25th already? No, not quite yet. Probably no big deal. This city is full of fancily-dressed guards standing at attention. What do they do anyway? Ok, there really are a lot of people standing here with cameras. What is everyone waiting to see? I came to a halt, found a slightly elevated patch of grass at the back of the crowd, shielded my eyes from the sun, and waited. I don't even know what I'm waiting to see. How long have all these people been standing here? Should I ask someone? No, I'll look like an idiot. I'll just wait. Suddenly, there was a loud round of applause that could be heard from just inside the palace doors, and a few people dressed in suits began to spill out. Are those reporters? Seriously, who are we waiting to see?! And then, out from the door on the left-hand side, emerged The Queen of England. Someone in the crowd shouted, "She's wearing purple!" There were a few cheers, and a lot of tourists trying to take long-distance photos with their cameras and phones. Damn it, why don't I have my camera?!?! I don't even have my bloody phone. Within seconds, her majesty had disappeared into a car, the third in a lineup just outside the palace. The police officers on motorcycles gave their bikes a good rev, and the cars jolted into motion. The crowd, with me at the back, began to wave simultaneously, aware that The Queen's car was just about to pass right in front of us, and a visual of the purple-clad lady in the back seat might be obtained. And then, just like in all the movies, she looked at the crowd, and waved, and the people around me erupted in laughter, cheers, and hasty photo-taking. Damn, I can't believe I don't have my camera. Unbelievable.
And just like that, it was over. The crowd dispersed, the police-led entourage of cars proceeded down the center pathway, and I started to jog in tow, heading home and in the same direction. I hope these standing police officers can tell I am obviously just on a jog, not trying to chase after the Queen. I wonder if I look threatening? What if I'm on the news, chasing down the Queen's car? I can't believe I saw the Queen, on a completely unplanned jog. What are the chances? And she waved! It's almost as if she was waving good-bye to me. Wait, she was, waving, good-bye, to me. In my final few weeks in London, I've seen the Queen, and she's waved good-bye. And as I approached the edge of Kensington Gardens, right around where I had started my jog about an hour prior, I was overcome with tears. Fully, within a matter of seconds, sobbing. It's really happening. We are leaving. Am I really crying about this now, in the park, on my jog? The Queen has just waved good-bye to me. What incredible timing. I stopped for a minute to collect myself, wiped my eyes, now burning with sunscreen, sweat, and tears, and looked back at the gardens, with rows and rows of daffodils in full bloom. Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I decided to walk the rest of the way home along High Street Kensington, contemplating my rather abrupt emotional outburst, seemingly brought on by a royal good-bye wave. I thought about the blog I would sit down to write tonight, so that I would never forget this moment. I know that a common byproduct of grief is fear. What if I forget all my memories from this chapter? Surely, someday, this 2 1/2 years will be a mere blip on the radar. I mustn't forget, but how can I make sure of it? Photos I guess. I'll always have Ruth. I won't forget, will I? I remember Jen saying that it was hard going home, lonely at times, isolated in her feelings. Bryan will understand, won't he? Look at all these people walking on the high street, having no idea that the Queen was just minutes away!
And just as I reached the grocery store, about a block away from home, I remembered that I needed to buy bananas. And yogurt. Funny life people lead in London, from royalty to bananas, just like that.
-B
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." - Carol Sobieski and Thomas Meehan, Annie
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