my woman is gone
Parisians are starting to whisper that it’s the start of summer, but we’re all afraid of declaring it and finding ourselves back in the rain.
It felt like it this weekend, walking around the city with my mother, the sun pouring over us.
Like anyone who’s been hiding under an umbrella and layers for the past two weeks, I was happy to take advantage of it.
And so we trudged to the Sunday market, and left armed with beautiful cheeses, apricots, cherries, fresh cod, baby artichokes, white asparagus, bread and wine. In the day we had a picnic in the park, wandered around the Marais, and went to my friend’s for dinner.
On the other side of Paris we had a leisurely dinner at my friend's bohemian apartment. There were several courses, the artichokes, cod and asparagus from the market, a cheese course, and a heavenly peach crumble made by the lovely host.
We began the meal inside in the warmth of the kitchen, and moved out into the evening air for the remaining courses, finishing our meal on the terrace by candlelight.
When considering every aspect that goes into a perfect meal, this one covered all bases. The music was good, the people were intelligent (and also crazy), the wine was poured freely, the food served slowly, and every bite was savored.
The next day we slept in, then took off into the city to attempt shopping. I use the word attempt, because after a couple of department stores we were tired of trying on shoes and being elbowed by tourists. So we bought nothing, went to the bookstore, bought plenty, and retired to the Tuleries where we sat and read under the trees at a small café in the park.
I wasn’t in the best form. My stomach was in knots from the combination of excitement, anxiousness, heat, and feeding my belly more wine and cheese than is ever appropriate.
Luckily I still had the energy for one more shopping trip, much more my style, to the Bon Marche Epicerie for dinner goods.
I held my mothers warm hands after dinner in my small apartment. I didn’t want her to leave. But we both have lives to live, and only two more months before we’re hand in hand again.
My calendar is booked steady until my trip to the ocean with the kids, then my return to the South of France, then Vancouver, and eventually back to Toronto for school.
Meanwhile, Paris blooms, and the sun has finally come out for all of us.