When The Sky Was On Fire

I have been walking around the same neighbourhood for the past ten months. I’ve seen these trees blossom, get all leafy and then go from yellow, red and brown to being completely naked, as if someone stripped them from their dignity and left them at the mercy of January’s winds in London.

I started this year with a new mindset. I was going to manoeuvre my way through countries, PCR tests and quarantines, if I had to, but I was going to create memories and erase the feeling of weeks slipping through my fingers, while waiting for someone else to allow me to be with the ones I love.

I wonder why I chose to immigrate in the first place - was it because I couldn’t find what I was looking for at home, so I had to try my luck somewhere else?! Or was it for the adventure? How thin is the line between travelling and running away? Was it adventure or escape that drove me?

There are leaves scattered all over this park! If they symbolised our problems, gathering them all in a pile would be a really bad idea. All it needs is a little bit of wind, some rain and you’ll have a pretty slippery, mushy mess all over the park. It’s like when you’re expecting guests and you’re running out of time to clean up, so you shove all of your clothes in the wardrobe. Then, at some point of the night your guest asks you for a cardigan because they got a bit chilly, and you being the great host you are, offer to give them one, forgetting about the mess behind the closed doors. You pull the squeaky doors open and it all pours out. I guess you can’t have a new start if you haven’t resolved the past.

But this is a new year for me and I was determined in those first weeks of January to change things. If we can really navigate our lives with positive thinking, then some greatness was coming my way back then, because I wasn’t just thinking positively, I was radiating positivity. Sure, there were some minor roadblocks, but I passed them by. Then, a bigger one came along, but I was determined to make it work, even if I had to leave the imaginary car and walk, and again I managed to surpass it.

Then I was faced with another roadblock, and this time there were others in the car with me. It was the type of roadblock that either makes you or breaks you. It was obvious that we’d have to leave the car, but it felt as if we would have to learn to walk again too. And there was a different question in front of us - do we all go in the same direction or we split up?!

A guy passed by me and I snapped out of this downward spiral of a mental monologue. He was walking his dog and the sight of them made me emotional. I was alone on a bench in South London and my only company were a couple of squirrels and a pigeon. I used to have this theory that the economic state of a country is best portrayed in the size of its pigeons. The pigeons back home are pretty skinny, and the majority of them in London are pretty well-rounded, especially the ones around Stratford.

I was sitting on that bench exhausted, frustrated and sad, and there was a squirrel that seemed to have great interest in me, I guess it could smell my fear of rodent lookalikes. I am always alert when they’re around me, so I prepared to leave, hoping to avoid her heist for nuts when I realised that it wasn’t me she was interested in, but a black leather notebook under the bench. The notebook was slightly wet, but I could tell it was a proper one, it was the type of notebook that is used for two purposes - to store poems or memories. I picked it up and the first page said “For You”. I was sure it was similar to those weird letters you find scattered around London that say “For You” on the envelope. But when you opened it, it’s from some sort of a religious group, hoping to find a lost soul and convert it to whatever ridiculousness they were preaching for. I was a lost soul, so lost that I had ran out of metaphors to explain my emotional state, so I was content with comparing myself to the naked branches of the trees in my local park. I flicked through the pages, most of them were torn out, there was only one with writings on it and it was a to do list:

Complete for a happier life in London

1. Have a coffee with a homeless person

2. Go to Waterloo Bridge, stand in the middle and look west

3. Enjoy a magical sunset in London, when the sky looks like it's on fire

4. Call your mom or someone special

5. Find Marianne at 22 Jerningham Rd and say that Tina sends you

I admit it was a solid list and since all of my plans seemed to be in conflict with the Universe’s, I decided to follow someone else’s To Do List. The list was fairly straightforward and I was lonely and frustrated enough to be up for the challenge. Mask on, got on a bus and headed towards Waterloo Station.

The massive roundabout there seemed so lonely with the few cars passing by and the empty pavements on each of its sides. A massive poster of a movie from March 2020 was staring back at me, I am not sure if it even made it to the theatres. It had been almost 4 months since my last trip to Central. The city was still and sad, but it was still London. Not the way I remembered it, but still the city I chose for myself. I started walking on the west side of Waterloo Bridge towards the middle. I turned towards London Eye and remembered why I loved this particular bridge so much, even more than Tower Bridge. At this point the river banks are pretty wide. The Thames almost looks like a lake. It was close to half past five and the sky was pink, the few clouds looked almost orange. Nature has its own ways of making your problems seem irrelevant.

I opened the black notebook and wrote:

Jan 21st, 2021

I was on Waterloo Bridge and the sky was on fire. DONE!

The next morning I called my mom. We hadn’t talked in six days, but she was feeling better. I guess time does heal all wounds or simply numbs the pain. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to complete the list. I wasn’t in the mood of putting myself out there and chatting to strangers, especially now when we all avoid each other on the streets as if we have the flu. I always give the local homeless guy money, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him.

On my way to Sainsbury’s I passed him by. He was sitting on his cardboard, reading a book, asking if I had any spare change. I rushed by and all he was left with was my awkward “Sorry mate”. Then I stopped, went back and asked if he wanted something from the shop. He wanted a cold cappuccino, the ones in cans and salt vinegar crisps. How simple. I always thought the request would be a well thought out list of supplies that will be enough for a couple of days. It’s funny how sometimes we think we know better what others need.

On my way back I delivered his order and decided to start a conversation. A couple of lines about Covid, the weather, then he told me his name and said he missed interacting with people but at least he had his companion - Whitey. He opened his coat, and under his arm was a little ball of fur, no particular breed but two of the kindest eyes I have ever seen on an animal. I asked him why he only requested crisps and coffee. He said that he felt like having crisps now and that the coffee was for later, and I had presented him with an opportunity so he wanted to make the best of it without asking for too much or too little.

I moved on, and before I knew it, I was in front of an old Victorian house, 22 Jerningham Road. I buzzed the doorbell and waited for some sort of an English grandma, who probably didn’t like Eastern Europeans. Quite the opposite! Marianne turned out to be a blue-haired, bubbly woman in her mid 30s. I kept my distance and followed the script "Tina sends me". I had no idea who Tina or Marianne was, I didn’t even know why I was there. However, Marianne seemed to know exactly why I was there and said “Great, let me grab my stuff”. After a few minutes she was in front of me, wearing a flashy bomber jacket, the type I’d never wear but it suited her. “How are you doing, honey?”. That did it for me. I opened my mouth and went on and on and on, tears streaming down my face, as we were climbing this hill of a street, until we got to a place called Telegraph Hill.

I wonder why is it easier to talk to strangers? She listened and offered understanding and acceptance, the kind I didn’t give myself. We spent some time staring at London in the distance, then Marianne took her backpack off and said that Tina wanted me to have it. I was quite uncomfortable, wondering if I was lying to this woman or she knew about the black notebook? Before I managed to say anything, she left the bag with me and left the park. While unzipping it my mind was going through the worst case scenarios regarding the contents- a bomb, body parts, trouble. Instead, it was a bag full of money, thousands of it. It made me laugh.

WHAT, really?!!!

I closed the bag, pulled out the black leather notebook from my pocket and tore the pages I had written on, but left the To Do List. I was tempted to tick off each task on the list, but it was for someone else to complete. I placed it on the bench and left.

On my way back to the station, I buzzed Marianne’s door again and told her that I got the wrong Tina and that the backpack wasn’t for me. Marianne was surprised and assured me that it was the right Tina, but I left the bag with her.

Now I wonder if I should have taken it, but I didn’t need it. Just like that homeless person, I needed something completely different. I think whatever treasures you leave behind will find you somewhere on your way forward. I knew what I needed and it was a ticket back home.