Perfect Day

For all of my bitching and melancholy moments, it may come as a shock to you, dear readers, that I actually have very happy memories.

This morning, while pouring my coffee, one of those memories crept into the front of my brain and begged me to recall it's minimal happiness.

It was the most perfect day...simple and really nothing in the grand scheme of moments. It wasn't a wedding...a big date...the birth of a loved one.

In May of 1995, three days after I graduated from college, my best pal, Diane, and I boarded a British Airways jet and flew to London. I was brain dead from my last semester of school...out of the five classes I carried, four were writing classes that taxed all of my free time (Creative Writing II, Advanced Public Relations Writing, Business Writing, and Writing for Children.) Moreover, I was directing a play that semester. Argh. By the time I walked in my cap and gown my brain was mush.

The first morning we were there we felt like zombies. We decided that we would not go crazy with the tourist stuff and just wander aimlessly. We found a little cafe that sold what is still possibly the best cup of coffee I have ever had in my life. The sky was overcast and a light rain fell on us as we walked and walked and walked.

We ended up at the London Zoo where we sat on a bench and talked about our lives. What the future held for us...the possibilities seemed endless then for we were only 23 and too young to be afraid of failing.

It was a true perfect storm that culminated in a moment that will be seared in my mind forever...the weight of school had been lifted...I was in my favorite city in the world...and I shared that moment with my best friend.

It's the tiny, seemingly insignificant moments like this that formed my life. No one walking past us that day would have had any clue that we were two American little girls on the brink of the rest of our lives. We just seemed like two tired idiots sipping coffee in the rain.