This is it.
To start, Eiffel. The start and the end and the one who saw it all unfold with a confident gaze.
I never had a bad day. I barely had a bad moment. The sun glows across the Champs de Mars on the tourists and the foreign businessmen wander the park. The grass sparkles with the dew. Birds chirp. I always miss that sound from home.
I have
I found my faith again: I feel full now when I think of God. I found nana reincarnate sitting in a covered chair, hands folded, mind sometimes elsewhere and sometimes so attuned to my nervous phrases. The way one eye shuts in an almost wink, blue twinkling, her wrinkles so beautiful. Her husband looked like a real good fellow, derpy and laid back and handsome - she said she had been lucky. I was lucky.
Tears. For time well spent, for money cascaded away in gifts and memories. Tears for moments.
Ruthie - she was it. Her eyes unwilling to cry, yet still filled, her little bundled self in my arms. We ate and laughed and flew together. We all did.
I had my Paris more separate, busier, than others. It doesn't make me better, it is simply what I needed to do to make sure I would have no regrets.loved every person I met on this trip. Maybe just for a few moments, or for a quick glance on the metro. But I have tried to be the positive, pure, free spirit that I always wanted to be.
And now the only regret I have is the shortness of time.
Time to head up. Time to say goodbye.
Luxembourg
She did not smile because of the sun, the warmth sinking through all black, nor the drip of the fountain or crunch of a multitude of footsteps, the clash of languages and camera clicks and poses made. The smile came from knowing with every moment, she was that much closer to immortality in a place like this. Her soul glowed.
We all love foolishly. She loves a fool, but that does not make her foolish. It means her heart is willing to give without anticipation. A front that stands with no expectation.
She waited not for the earth to spin but for the stars to catch up with her fleeting steps.
12/21 On flight
I had dinner with her family. I finally met the people I had heard so much about. It was rather intimidating, especially when I saw all their 500-euro leather shoes and I had walked in with pink socks. They drank champagne and whiskey and wine and ate meat and cheese and cake, but food and drink were never the focus. They talked over each other, across the table, in constant motion. The wife whisper to her husband when she wanted to leave. The kids not wanting Madame to fuss over the table or the fact that she wouldn't sit still for a minute. Gossiping about dramatic cousins, politics, family origins.
My family.
Cleaning up with Madame for the last time, shaking out the tablecloth on the balcony, handing her dishes and pushing her cart back into the kitchen. Giving her the letter I wrote and letting the tears fall. She said I was marvelous, that she knew no other student like me in all the years she's hosted kids, that her husband would have loved me, how much she loves what I do and who I am.
"Should we sleep?" she said. "Or shall we sit? Let's sit. One last night." Until 1 am, we talked about our holiday traditions and laughed together.
She drove me in the morning to a bus stop, past the Eiffel Tower turned off for the night. Shaded for my departure. She kissed and embraced me and waited until the bus left to furiously wave goodbye, still in her pajama gown with wild white hair.
The orange light of dawn over Sacre Coeur.
I hate goodbyes. But the fact that it kills makes me know I fully lived.
I don't know if I'll see her again. I don't know the future, what I will see or do or fall in love with. But I will always have her wave goodbye and her mousey reddened eyes and her love. And like we both believe, we will see each other again, no matter what.
The Eiffel Tower in the morning, staring at the streets now etched in my heart, was just what I needed to see.
It was all just what I needed.
No comments:
Post a Comment