Writing about a memory.

January 2010.

It must have been a Monday. Cariad often stayed the weekend with me in London, waking early and taking a train straight to work Monday morning.

That Monday it snowed. Cariad looked at the train schedules, of course nothing was running. I was booked in to teach at a school I often went to.

Hoping for a snow day, I checked the borough’s website. No such luck, the primary school wasn’t among those listed as closed. Cariad continued checking as I readied myself for work. More and more schools showed up as closed, but still no luck. I trudged through the snow to catch the bus, wishing desperately for the day off.

I arrived at work, disgruntled at having to be there. At the morning assembly, the head teacher encouraged all classes to go outside and enjoy the snow. I spent an hour making giant snowmen with the Year 1 classroom.

Big, fat snowflakes continued falling. At 10:30 AM the school decided it should indeed close. Finally, all the children went home and I could too.

I boarded the 82 to Victoria Station. While I was anxious to get home to have a lazy snow day with Cariad, I was also happy right where I was: the top front of a red double decker bus, watching the snow fall on the beautiful city I called my home.

I still remember disembarking at my usual stop, a 5 minute walk from home. I texted Cariad telling him I would be there soon.

While I don’t remember specifics about the rest of that day, I do remember how I felt walking home in the snow. Cariad’s response was “Yey! I’ll put the kettle on. xx” The aniticipation and happiness is almost indescribable. That feeling of knowing the man I loved was waiting for me, brewing me a cup of tea, as anxious to see me as I was to see him… well. Suffice to say, it was a pretty great feeling.

I can’t wait to come home to Cariad on a regular basis.

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