The Weeklies: July 28 - August 3

Last Monday afternoon I'd taken a corner seat at a tea shop. Its usually an empty place, with a short line. That particular Monday it was crowded. I was seated next to an elderly woman in big round black glasses. She had a sketch book concealed under the table, a marker in her right hand, drawing the scene. I loved the way she folded the tea shop into itself, the corners of the walls descended and became noses, the tabletops flowing delicately into crossed legs. I was intensely jealous. I was scribbling in my notebook, reaching for inspiration but stuck in day dreams about the next few weeks.

At the end of August I'll be in Scotland for an event and if I can swing it, immediately spending a few days alone in London. But, hell, London. In the life of Ariel Davis, it doesn't get more honeyed and mythical than London. I tried to condense it down to a single sentence for my therapist. My chest warmed, a smile spreading across my face.

"It was the peak. The best moment I've ever had. I...sometimes I have to make sure it actually happened. I have to look in my wallet at my tube ticket."

Wednesday night I ordered Chinese take out. I opened a fortune cookie to reveal what we already know to be true: "Travel is in your future."

That weekend I barely left the house. I was moody and grumpy. Alistair coaxed me out for dinner in the neighborhood. He told me comical stories from his younger days that made me laugh and cheered me up. I binge watched TV on Sunday when I couldn't write, escaping to the grocery store to make Alistair a big — but mostly unimpressive — dinner. The Sunday scaries arrived at their usual hour.