love beyond amour
I throw myself across her.
“Just over a month now. And then there’s a new life in Toronto. No more kids, none of this.”
And as much as this life here is growing on me, I know I’ve got something to look forward to.
One of my roommates for next year spent the last few days in Paris with me. Shacked up in my tiny apartment, it became clear that this was someone I wanted to live with. I have a good life awaiting me back in Canada.
The days were magical. Walking in the sun, the rain, smiling under umbrellas and walking under the Eiffel tower at night.
We ate cheaply and well. Salads and artichokes out on the balcony. Big pastries in the morning. Lemon tarts for dessert. Wine with lunch and dinner.
Her beautiful face smiled first thing in the morning, and talked with me late into the night.
She came to the park with the kids and took a giant load off, made my life easier, and switched up my day-to-day rituals.
She met my Turkish family in Montmartre, and was overwhelmed by the amount of love that one small restaurant, and one family could give. When I hugged my Turkish mother goodbye-she says I’m her other daughter-we walked down the wet street and she thanked me for the experience.
They’ve been a rich few days, so rich that I know something just as good lies ahead.
You can take the girls out of Paris, but you can’t take away their joie de vivre.