hold my hand on take-off

today is my four-year anniversary of arriving in london. i love this photo as somehow it brings together my past with my present. we are sitting on the pebble beach of brighton in the summer. C, my old chum from high school, has come to the u.k. on business, but is free for the weekend. she plays battery-operated toy drums found at a second-hand shop -- i'm not sure if P -- our brighton host -- is enjoying the melody! and lovely D watches on...

things i still have from four years ago:

• my mobile / cell phone
  
• some conservative work clothes -- i don't know why, but i've always hung onto these boring blouses and smart trousers, thinking one day i might have to go back to an office job that won't allow jeans.
  
• my lomo (although it did need to go to the hospital once for some minor surgery)
  
• my ibook
  
• my passport (with all the various u.k. visas since my first arrival)
  
• hyedie's card that she illustrated for me, with "good luck bianca!", still pinned to my bulletin board
  
• amy's mixed cd's she used to make for me -- i still listen to them, though on my ipod now

i looked up a post i wrote a few days after landing in london -- my first time in the u.k., and without a job, friends or family (and curiously and unexpectedly now, after four years, i'm still here, and am lucky to have all three). it was written under the same title as this post today (an aimee mann lyric):

i feel extraordinary admiration for those who have moved "cold" to a new place -- any new place, within canada, or beyond. the more i do things associated with home -- messaging, blogging, listening to music -- the more i miss it. i feel like an addict who suddenly had their booze or cigarettes or favourite binge food taken away -- but i know that if i can make it through the first month, i can make it through the rest of the year, and beyond.

the willingness of strangers to lend me a hand amazes me, and the support from you at home gives me courage.