Walking in London

Walking to school, I am absolutely content.

Winding through the familiar streets of London, I am taking it all in:

the “totters” on the sidewalk, the crisp, clean air, and the people passing by.

I notice a woman reading a text message as she walks—and a slight, telltale smile creeps onto her face.

I walk by a blue double-decker tour bus full of grade school kids and see one little boy looking at me through the window; I smile and wave, and he lights up like a Christmas tree. He waves back enthusiastically and quickly gets the attention of the boy sitting next to him so that I can wave to him too.

I walk by backpackers with maps and locals with agendas. I see café boards and smell breakfast and rain. I hear bits of languages I don’t understand and the roar of impatient engines.

As I near Regent’s Park, I pass by a man, cell phone in hand, goofy grin plastered on his face—obviously reading a new text. I almost want to believe that it is a response from the woman I’d seen smiling before, to believe I had just witnessed both ends of a private conversation.

Complicated thoughts start but I push them away.

I am walking in London. I am taking it all in.