Dear London,

I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for quite some time now. When we were first introduced, I didn’t know what to expect from you. The only thing I did know was the importance of savoring every moment of being with you.

I lived in a tiny dorm style flat that I quickly decorated to feel more like home. Even sooner was I a regular at Pitfield London, the coffee shop across the street from my residence. After I placed my order, the barista became a custom to locating my seat by the window where I’d be plugging away at a Shakespeare essay or buried in a Jane Austen novel. Everything felt normal and natural with you, especially in Shoreditch, the area I considered to be home for those six weeks.

Friends didn’t come so natural at first. I was forcing myself to fit in with people who I didn’t truly relate too. But then London, you gave me Kaleigh, Lily, and Davina. Even putting their names on paper brings me back, making my heart skip a beat for the days we spent together. The time I passed with them is irreplaceable in every way. Even if it was just finding a Joe and the Juice to grab coffee at or wandering around a museum after a long trek through the rain or stuffing ourselves with the copious amount of food offered at the Camden Market; London, you made me feel lucky to have found people to be so close to so far away from home.

Before I knew it these people became home to me. Wine with home cooked meals and adventures through the city were daily activities. We’d travel on weekends (Ireland, Amsterdam, Rome, Barcelona) only to come back to each other and relive our adventures together.

It seems cliche but London, there isn’t another experience in my life that has yet to compare to you. I learned so much about you, your culture, and the beautiful people who I shared you with. I was there for you as you made history voting on Brexit, the same way you were there for me as I gazed upon art hosted by your museums, mastered your underground rail system, and confidently walked your streets like I myself had lived there for years. Looking back, our six weeks together seems brief, a hurry of getting to experience as much of you as possible.

I wish I hadn’t had to leave you. And in some ways I’m sorry that I did. In other ways, I know that if when I go back, it won’t quite be the same without the people who wholeheartedly shaped my experiences. One day, so many others will be able to look past Kensington Gardens, Big Ben, and the Buckingham Palace to see the lavish, genuine allure that continues to draw me to you.

You don’t have to wait for me London, but I will come back to you.