This fall we’re going to Paris. He’s traveled there before. I haven’t. I almost went once, to join him for a side journey after an early spring business trip. Almost. Instead, I slipped on a patch of black ice in our driveway and broke two bones in my ankle. No walking for 8 weeks, per doctor’s orders. So, while he was touring Musée du Louvre and gazing at La Tour Eiffel, I sat at home being well-cared for by our teenage sons. It felt like a medically mandated house arrest.
Years passed. We talked about Paris but never made the trip. The time was never quite right in his schedule, or mine.
For health reasons, this year didn’t start out well for me. But good things can come from bad. Sometimes it takes a few bad spots to jump start us into doing things we really want to do, like traveling to Paris.
Last month we made plane reservations for a week-long trip. Later, we reserved an apartment. We’ve searched hundreds of websites on what to see, what to wear, and where to eat. Shopped for a new camera, some basic wardrobe pieces, a good pair of walking shoes. And, I’ve signed up for a French course to refresh my memory of High School French. I start class this coming week. All fun stuff.
There’s a mystique about Paris. A romance. A wonder. I see it reflected on faces of those who have been there. In late October, after our trip, look for it in mine. ∞