you make this life possible

They’re leaving soon.

The three beautiful individuals who have been lighting up my life these past few weeks are leaving. Tomorrow morning my brother leaves Paris, and two days later, so do my parents.

The last few days have been like a crème brûlée: hard and sometimes dark on the outside, with grey skies and screaming children, but sweet, warm and savoury underneath, with moments of laughter and love with my family.

My father treated me to lunch at a location of my choice. I chose the restaurant in Fauchon, a large gourmet food store in Paris, which is quite the crème of the crop. We were served beautiful food by snotty waitresses with pink scarves around their necks, and enjoyed a two hour lunch in a classy setting. I couldn't get over the fact that you got a fresh face cloth to dry your hands with everytime you went to the toilets. Even more impressive was their fresh lemon tart, which being true to its name, was the freshest we have ever tasted.

My mother and I bought more lingerie, and admired the lace, ribbons and embroideries on bras at exuberant prices. Afterwards we sat in a noisy brasserie, ordered cafes, and talked heart to heart. Mother to daughter. Woman to woman. We both agreed that if we wanted to succeed at anything, we had to believe in ourselves. And although I’ve heard that phrase countless times, this time it actually meant something.

My brother and I bought each other drink after drink last night, and moved our bodies to electro music in a smoky underground club. It was body against body, everyone shaking to the beat, as three female Djs took the stage. The most surreal was a young Danish DJ, who had a beard drawn on her face, and appeared to be on the verge of insanity. She flung her arms violently as she screamed English lyrics, singing song after song about women she'd loved. I loved her at first, until her singing became yelling, and her music became noise. We cheered when the next DJ replaced her.

We also finally got all for of us for dinner at Le Grand Colbert, an old restaurant famous for its typical Brasserie cuisine of oysters and fish, and for its scene in the film Something’s Gotta Give. We had a bottle of wine, good food, and a playful waiter who gave me all the attention I wanted.

We got back together tonight, when I visited my family in their Montmartre apartment. Their apartment is stylish and comfortable, and a vast improvement from the apartment they first rented but had to move out of. I took them to visit my Turkish family at their restaurant, where we were lovingly welcome, and served generous portions of meat, rice, and fries for a very price. It felt good introducing my family to the one family that really makes me feel at home in Paris.

Back at the apartment I curled up into my mother and didn’t want to leave. But I knew the sun would rise the next day, or the sky would atleast turn a light grey, and that there are things to be done; children to fetch from school.

I said a final aurevoire to my brother, who I won't see for months, and took the metro home. I got off a stop early, walked across a bridge that reveals the Eiffel tower in the distance, and back to my apartment, to my present life and reality.