“Come with me,” he had said. His job was sending him to France for a week and he wanted me to join him when he was through with business for a few days. We’d meet in Paris. A chance to relax. Reconnect. To find ourselves again. This was more than a typical get-away. It was an opportunity to stop surviving and to start living again. It was an affirmation that things can still go right for us. That we are actually in control of our life. That we can stop living in fear.
But could we? Could I actually leave Eloise, board a plane by myself, and cross the ocean? It was something I never would have done, under normal circumstances. But we are no longer living a normal life. Could we be happy again? Lighthearted again? That’s a feeling which has escaped us for nearly a year. What if this was just another thing that would turn into a disaster? Yet another complete disappointment? What if something terrible happened?
What if? What if? What if?
Despite my very real fears, it did happen. Things did work out. And there was happiness. There were glimpses of true lightheartedness. We weren’t the same people who walked those Paris streets five years ago. But we held hands as we walked.
*Paris. This city has always had a hold on me. This was my third time there…the first time just me and Mike…and it’s magic. The only reason I didn’t cry leaving this time was because my excitement to come back with Eloise when she gets just a little bit older outweighed any sadness.
*Croque-Madames, frites, et, bien sûr, le vin! We leisurely munched a late lunch while watching the raindrops fall outside the window of a cozy brasserie. Perfection.
*The music box. The minute we saw it…the minute we heard its beautiful, hauntingly sweet song… we knew we had to buy it for Eloise. The Galeries Lafayette has an incredible children’s floor…such a happy, joyful place. Not to mention a mind-blowing main atrium (it’s like a church for shopaholics) and a breath-taking view of the city from the 7th floor observation terrace. And, oh yeah…February is the month for sales in Paris. So while the music box wasn’t the only souvenir we brought back, it was certainly our favorite.
*Our Love Lock. It was cheesy and touristy. But adding our little silver lock to the thousands that adorned Pont des Arts on Valentine’s Day was also sweet and special and very memorable. We know that the city officials and locals loathe the tradition. But let me just speak my peace. The bridge without the locks? Nothing special. With the locks? It’s a beautiful tribute to love in a world that is otherwise so focused on hate and tragedy. It looks cool. Apropos of what “the bridge of art” should look like. So maybe, Paris, embrace the sentiment. Fortify the bridge and sell less weighty locks to willing tourists. Just a thought. I’ll get off my ugly American soapbox now.
*Walking. It was 45-50 degrees every day, which felt downright tropical compared to what we left in Chicago. We didn’t mind the infrequent rain showers (they were actually pretty romantic) because they were always followed by sunshine. So we walked until our feet were numb. Exploring. Snapping photos. Holding hands. Stopping to eat. To shop. To eat again. The food was incredible. So much so that after taking a bite into the best croissant I’ve ever had from a bakery that Mike found on our last morning in town, I declared, “Why did I sleep through breakfast every other morning?!”
*Sleeping in. Because it is something we haven’t been able to do in over 2.5 years, and who knows when we will get the chance again!