Sunday, December 8, 2013

One Day in Paris

Terrible a thought that it is, I am terrified that I am going to die before I do everything that I want to do. (God forbid.)

It's strange how often I think about it. While I'm making my bed I run my hand over the embroidery on my pillowcase that says, "I'd rather be in Paris," and that's when it hovers over me like a dark cloud.

I've never been to Paris. The French language and culture were my first obsessions as a young girl. I tried to teach myself French and study up on all things Parisian. My great-grandmother's family is French. Of course they have been in the States since before the Revolutionary War but I was extremely proud of them. They were Huganouts who fled France for religious freedom.

I felt like I belonged in Paris. If I was quiet I could hear France call to me. I imagine one of my many times great-grandmother missed her homeland and I can feel that longing to return. Not permanently, but for a visit.

And like her, I fear I'll never see it.


(image via mariecatherine7)

No comments:

Post a Comment