17 Years
I am on a train, and as we started to move, I just burst into tears. I might be a little dramatic. But, I waited 17 years to get back here.
Paris. I am headed to Paris. Almost 17 years to the day, I
am on a train, headed straight to my favorite place in the world, a place that
means so much to me. There just hasn’t been an opportunity; life and work have
gotten in the way, the time hasn’t been right, the finances haven’t been right,
the list goes on. All the while, I have dreamed and wished and hoped. I
honestly gave up on ever coming back.
Then, I had to come to London for work, and being two hours
away from Paris, there was no way I was going to let the chance pass me by. So,
voila! My work is done, and I am headed for a short stay in Paris.
When I went to Paris 17 years ago, it was on a lark, more of
a last minute trip, not planned or obsessed over. I had to take vacation time I
was going to lose, and I had a lot of hotel and airline points, and could do it
for free, so I thought, why not Paris?
But, upon arrival, something so unexpected happened. I felt
a connection to the city like nothing I had ever experienced before. Like I was
“of” this place, like I had past lives here, or at the very least, my ancestors
had walked here. I felt the very being of me
had started here. I felt I had found home, something I have been endlessly
searching for. I still can’t quite explain the connection I felt to Paris, but
that feeling never left me, and the need to get back was like an aching chasm.
Later that same year, I went back at Christmastime, and I thought surely the
spell would be broken, that maybe I was just so vacation-starved that Paris had
cast a temporary spell that spring, but the feeling was even stronger. As I did
the first time, as I left for the airport to go home, I wept in the cab the
entire way.
There are other places that I love, other cities that are
special to me, San Francisco in particular, that have a part of my heart. But
there is something different and deeper about Paris. There always will be.
So, now, I am headed back, and I don’t have to ask if the
spell is still there, the tears in my eyes tell me it is. Paris is waiting for
me, and I am going home, even just for a few days. I cannot wait. I will
wander, eat bread and cheese and pastries and not count a calorie once. I will
walk through museums that make me remember why I loved every art class I ever
took, and that I have tried to learn and absorb everything I can about the
artists behind the huge canvases on the walls. I will stand in awe over works
that are ancient that I have seen many times, but still feel like I am seeing
them for the first time.
I will not plan too much, and get lost and end up finding
amazing shops and restaurants, as I have both times when I visited before. I
will still be a tourist and do a few touristy things. I will see the Eiffel tower.
I will go back to my favorite little places I remembered in my dreams over the
years.
I didn’t realize it had been seventeen years until I counted
a few nights ago, and it made me sad. I had always kept Paris kept closer in my
mind. I couldn’t imagine it had been so long. But now, I am going. Next week, I
can say, I was just in Paris, last week. And in about two hours, I can say, I
am in Paris, right now.
Right now.
What a wonderful thing.
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