York train station

memories of England

Warning: I am a dreamer. I am a traveler. I am not a writer. When I sit down to write something close to my heart I let all the sappy, romanticism seep out. If you want a Grinchy tale, this is not the place you want to be right now. You have been forewarned.

A year ago I walked off a plane into the Manchester airport. I stood at arrivals and let the chilled English air wash over me. The sea of accents, currency exchanges, the smell of being somewhere new. There is nothing on earth gives me a high like traveling does. Especially traveling alone, and to one of my favorite places on earth. 

The first couple of days I stayed with the some dear friends, the Yuills, who I had not seen for at least 12 years or so. And It really felt like no time had passed at all. They were both as uplifting and humorous as ever. I owe them a lot of gratitude. I had not intended to be such a lazy guest but Margaret was always making us these gorgeous meals, and taking me around town, and letting me sleep in ( which, by the way, was the first time I had slept in in seven years. Sweet baby Jesus. Magical times indeed). 

I felt like someone who did not have a care in the world, I felt rest, and that is a very rare thing for me these days. From the bottom of my heart I thank you, Chick and Margaret. I hope I can return the favor someday.

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Some things I am missing today....

Wandering the Manchester Christmas Markets

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and emotional train rides

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spending time with the loveliest and most hilarious hobbits in the world, Jack and Neil, and helping shoot this countryside wedding

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crisps and pints

coats buttoned high

the streets of York...

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But, most of all I'm missing this. Love you, Jess:)

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And NONE of this would have happened if it were not for my husband. Ryan, thank you for putting up with my wanderlust over the years, and watching our children for a week, so I could have this time to myself. I cannot describe how healing this trip was for my soul. 

Saving my pennies for the next time:)