Last night I met up with some long lost friends.
Classmates from my years at the Lycee (that's High School or Secondary School to you non-Continentals). These people were my best friends - before we all spread our wings and disappeared around the world.
I'd lost touch with everybody. I'm good at that. I don't like looking back as a rule, I'd rather move forward. A bit like notebooks. I like a pristine new notebook. The promise the unsullied pages hold. Old photo albums make me cringe. I don't hoard stuff.
And then through Facebook (I know, I know) we slowly found each other again. And a bunch of us met up in London last night (having travelled from Autralia, Denmark, Holland, France, and Norway to be there - and a few of us from London). In a nice little unassuming Turkish restaurant behind Warren Street.
I didn't know what to expect. Mostly I worried that I wouldn't fit in. What would they think of me now? How would I deal with plates of Mezze? The element of surprise was removed thanks to profile pictures on Facebook. Strangely, very few of us looked any different. And it was like no time had gone by at all. We picked up where we'd left off really. And the food was fine - although I overdid it slightly (a lot) on the pitta bread front...
Which is a sign of true friendship. (Picking up where we left off... not stuffing my face with pitta bread.)
So how did it go? It was lovely! Catching-up is nice. It's safe too. Like watching action films on the telly. You can get involved with the story but you won't get hurt.
They are really the most wonderful group of people! I'd forgotten how warm and generous they all were, and how much they seem to care about me. I felt welcomed and loved. And more importantly liked. Because you can love people but not like them...
I discovered that most of them have children. Around the 6-7 year old mark. Like they suddenly decided to fall pregnant at the same time without realising it. Like long lost twins! Synchronised biological clocks. That made me feel a lot younger than the rest. As if being parents made them adults, whereas I was still - what? - an adolescent? Hardly! So what then? A child? Maybe... more like someone with her whole life ahead of her. Which is the definition of a child... but has nothing to do with age. It's about the opportunity. And freedom.
I felt like I had made the right life choices. That I was in a good place. AM in a good place. That I wouldn't change anything for the world. Because every step I have taken has led me to where I am today, this morning. And it is a good place. Sitting on the red sofa, looking out the large window, typing my blog, listening to the building work going on across the street, watching the morning mist burning up in the sunshine.
I am a lucky girl, born under a lucky star. My life is good. And I can step out into the sunshine, my head held up high, and a smile dancing on my lips. Today is a lucky day, as every day is, in my lucky life.
Now - off to my meeting before I break into a Kylie song and dance...