Stories of...Notting Hill

I really miss my mom. And home. The sinking feeling began yesterday. I don’t know what changed. 

Perhaps it got colder. 
Perhaps the novelty wore off. 
I want to go find safety in the arms of my friends. 
To sleep in my bed. 
Eat my mom’s food. 
Hear Oliver-my dog-barking in the background while my dad and I cozy on the couch. 

I’m writing this from Kensington Palace doing Afternoon Tea.

They’re playing Christmas songs on the piano. When I was in choir in high school our choir teacher, Mr. Tuttle, taught us a whole repertoire of Christmas carols for us to sing around the community during the holidays. 

Right now they’re playing In the Bleak Mid Winter. I wish I could turn around and see Mr.Tuttle conducting us. I wonder if you’re conducting an angel choir. Maybe it’s you playing the piano. Maybe you’re saying hello to me through the frosty wind made moan. 

I’m really lucky for the time I’ve spent here. The people I’ve met, the love I’ve found in my solitude, the change in tempo. 

I’ll be in New York in a few weeks to work on my first Off-Broadway play. I’ll be staying in Brooklyn. 

Perhaps there’ll be a
                  Stories of Brooklyn (hehe) 


Until then--


                                                                                                                                           Stories of Notting Hill 
                                                                                                                                 Friday December 3rd, 2021