St. James

The busy streets bustle as the fog begins to lessen ever so slightly from the sprinkle that is coming down from the unseen clouds far above. Black umbrellas open, scattered and worn, among the masses. The bright red of the public transport seems blinding in the dim light of the evening. As I walk down the street with a tea in my hands, I look up to see a river and, directly across it, a clock tower known all around the world. No one here seems to notice it much, at least not beyond glancing up at it occasionally to see what time it is, but to me it is still unfamiliar and exciting. I pause as I reach the bridge and look up to see Big Ben’s giant clock face watching over the city.

I continue on my way until I reach St. James’s Park and find a bench near the water. I sit, eat, and read to my heart’s content as the sounds of the slowly moving liquid, the prancing joggers, and the gushing couples waft around me filling my mind with happiness and ideas. After longing for years, I can finally call this place home. The British accents and tourists taking photos and the smell of pasties and fish and chips with vinegar will never tire me, instead they will fill my mind and home with constant fervour.

I smell bread fresh from the oven as I roll over in bed and hear my father cutting slices for his breakfast before he leaves for work. If only this room full of yarn, books, and art supplies could be in England. Instead when I look out the window, I see the tiny forested area across the road from my parents’ house in northern Arkansas. My window is open, and I feel a cool breeze drift into my room and hear the droplets of water hitting the roof. If I can’t be there, at least I have the cool weather and drizzling rain that are so rarely found here in the summer but that fill that country with a different sort of life.

This post was based off a prompt asking one to describe any setting they wish. I haven’t been to London, but I’ve always longed to go, and I wish to live in England, thus I chose this as the location.

Featured photo belongs to Ben Cawthra.

Published by A Boggus Life

I am an eclectic reader and editor who solves Rubik's cubes, writes, draws and paints, and longs to live in England and France.

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