The Streets of London

For the last eight days, I have been in a different place.
Lots of places, really.
     London, Holland, Belgium, France . . . . . . and places in between.
My first visit to Europe EVER.
Only took me 43 years.
With three children at home, I feel slightly guilty taking this trip so far away and for so many days,
     but it was they who ultimately encouraged me to go "spread my wings".
And, I am ever so grateful to my wonderful children for doing so.      

Right now, I sit in a charming little, cozy little Lebanese restaurant in London.
We stumbled upon it this morning for breakfast,
     and when I had the urge to sit comfortably somewhere to spend time with my writing,
the atmosphere and perfectly sized plush leather chairs called us back for a visit.  
Unbeknownst to us, there is a private room in the back, just big enough to seat five -
     a rustic, dark wood table, with bench seating, all around,
covered in rich colored tapestries of burgundy, gold, and black.
It sounds very dark, but the large, roof top window just above, allows in the sunshine
and a view of the soft blue sky.
Spanish music is playing in the background, and if I close my eyes, I am not sure where I am.
London, Lebanon, Spain . . .
      and my head still in the clouds from a trip to Holland and Belgium - where am I ?
It doesn't matter.

Victor, the young restaurant keeper with warm eyes and a generous smile
    (who has family in Chicago, but no time to visit),
pops his head around the corner, just often enough to see to our needs.      
A nice strong coffee and a freshly squeezed orange juice sit on the table, to my right.  
And, all is good in the world. 
Day after day of doing and walking and and looking and driving . . . and this is exactly what I need.
So much to take in, and now a time to sit and reflect in this quiet little alcove,
     while the streets of London bustle on by.   

My little haven in London - talking with my girlfriend on the phone.