Called it: as Eric and Audrey had driven me home, passing through Paris’s Place de la Concorde on our way back from my last, summer Jewish soiree, merely a few days before packing Paris away into two suitcases brimming with the memories, the stories, the adventures of my six months abroad. I had assured myself
leaving Paris was merely a pause-- a life I could pick back up, should it be a decision I chose to pursue.
I’m sitting at the desk of
our London hotel room emailing French friends, arranging the
evening plans I had, but four months ago, toyed with in hopes of coming back to Paris.
But I never guessed return would happen so soon,
however quick of a visit this Monday's trip to Paris will be. I never imagined that Paris—my
summer social circle—would welcome me back so warmly for the three days I've booked in a city I never quite left behind.
But first I’m in London, having arrived early Friday morning. It’s my grandfather’s 80th birthday
and for the first time since my eight-year-old brother was born, we're here as a whole family. I was nine the last time we were in London-- but then as a family of four to collect our Green Cards, a step closer toward what would eventually lead to an official new nationality.
That, and a massive case of identity crisis.
That, and a massive case of identity crisis.
The six months I spent
tracing the roots of a European background I left at the age
of four, piece together this trip back with my parents and brothers. As for Paris, to have created a life for myself--a group of friends, a daily routine-- to have left and now to return: I'm excited to see how it all applies after four months away.
I probably should get to
writing a complete blog post, jot down the thoughts, document the excitement
and unearth the tale of the traveling blue shoes-- the legacy of a pair of
five-pound Primark fake keds. For the two years they've symbolically followed on my journeys abroad: the ever-reminder of the adventure that forever lies
ahead.
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