the train to london.

i feel safe on the trains. they know where they are going. their paths are laid out.  they are strong and fast. 

being in europe has made me realize how important it is that i feel safe. it is not something i've ever really considered, maybe because i've always had it. security. safety. comfort.

i am alone now. but i am safe. i feel safe. except this time, i made it myself, instead of having it given to me. i created my own safe. i know where i'm going. i can take care of myself.

thomas and i had the best night last night. we went out for crepes at a bustling little restaurant named creperie josselin. the tables were crammed and tiny. we sat in a little wooden booth that was perfectly-sized for me and made thomas look like a giant. there were sweet lamps covered in white lace and paintings that looked like the came from your grandma's garage and colorful plates hanging from the walls. it was loud and lively and warm. we had sparkling wine and salad and crepes stuffed with cheese and tomatoes and walnuts. we had coffee and talked about love, which is what we seem to always talk about. he asked me what kind of man i'd marry if i could choose. and i was startled by the question. i don't think i've ever really thought about it. i've never made a list. i'm always surprised by the people i love. how different they are. i never thought of it as a choice, it has always just arrived. thomas says ben wants him to marry me. because i'm nice to him. i was glad, for a moment, that some boy might like me to be nice to him instead of being elusive to make him want me. we toasted to our negative three year anniversary.

one of the servers came over after our meal and asked something in french. i stared dumbly at him and said i don't speak french. he tried in english and we couldn't understand each other. eventually he said "do you like alcohol?" which i responded to with a resounding yes and he clapped his hands and brought over some of the strongest apple liquer i have ever tasted. i loved him. the alcohol was grainy and burned but made me feel warm and like finding someone to love was possible. so i sipped from the miniature glass in the miniature booth in the miniature creperie and felt so happy.

then we went bowling. bowling in paris. the man at the door said to thomas, i just need to see your wife's bag. and we laughed because apparently we were married early than anticipated. i felt light and silly.we put on red velcro shoes and bowled. i had an incredible time. as in most things i do, i was erratic-- occasionally bowling strikes, counterbalanced by my frequent gutter balls. i amaze myself. operating at such drastic poles in life. 

i am finding that balance.

or trying.

in the meantime, i am having fun. i appreciate that. we bowled and played table hockey and sat on the steps outside and talked. we brushed our teeth together. we said goodnight. 

this morning i said goodbye to my thomas. thomas who helps everyone on the train with their bags, who helps little old ladies with pink bows on their suitcases down the stairs, who makes the plans, who will not let me pay, who pulls me back when i wander blindly into the street, who makes me feel safe. goodbye thomas. thanks thomas.

this morning i received my second stamp in my passport. i was elated. previously i was horrified to learn that since i've just been traveling within the eu, i wouldn't get a stamp with each new country i visited. today, france stamped my passport. the man was enthusiastic and friendly. he asked me if i'd ever been to london. he asked where else i was going. 

he asked where i was from. 

i was confused for a minute. i didn't know what to say. where am i from. from santa barbara. from the losters. from my mama. from san francisco. from broderick street. from fly. from berlin. from rue de montparnasse, paris. where am i from. which are the parts that stay with me. what is my origin. where will i return. what is my destination. what is important. what defines me. stupidly, i asked what he meant. he asked, where do you live. and i realized i don't live anywhere. i don't have a home. it didn't feel sad. it felt free. i have many homes. i have my home in berlin, which is not a specific place, but a small collection of people and the experiences i had there. the schools i attended. the friends i made. the cafes and bars i lived in. i have my home in san francisco, which is an area and a group of people and a street and the way i walked to work and the stories that unfolded there and the knowing, the familiarity. i have my home in santa barbara, which is my family and serena road and the jacaranda trees and our dining room table with its two removable leaves that always seem to be in use now, as the family grows. and i have my home here, which is wherever i am right now, somewhere under the water, between paris and london, which is just me and my backpack of  thoroughly dirty clothes and my passport which is filling with stamps and my heart which is enormous and young and learning.

but i did not say all that. i just said, san francisco, maybe just because that's what my return ticket said. and he told me to have a great time and seemed genuinely excited for me. and i felt excited for me. for my going.

that encounter was immediately followed by one with the uk immigration officer, who, true to the rumors, was incredibly rude and suspicious, but who also gave me a stamp. and i will take them all. the pleasant, friendly stamps and the awkward, aggressive stamps, because they are all a part of this journey and thus a part of me. i am just taking it all as it comes.

so now it is now and i am traveling back in time to london, which will gift me an hour and a meeting with my sweet rebecca. i am excited for her arms, which are at the same height as mine, and her lovely accent and her enthusiasm and her wisdom. i am excited for another city and another way of life and another chance to see myself and potentially another home. another place to make it more difficult to answer, where are you from. which makes me glad. i am from all over the world. because this is where i discovered little bits about myself. where i met beth. in berlin. in prague. in amsterdam. in paris. 

on the train to london.

hello.