T.S. Elliot once wrote that, “April is the cruelest month.” I have a tendency to agree. The first day is, after all, dedicated to fools. Followed closely by tax day here in the States. The only saving graces for THIS particular April, I suppose, were that Holy week and Easter were near its end, that (as a Catholic) Popes John Paul II and John XXIII were canonized and are now saints, and another part of our clan has had the opportunity to visit Paris. Paris — it’s a good thing.
Our daughter, Veronica, is in Paris with good friends, Charles and Kat. She has been homeschooling our grandchildren and their oldest son, so it was a natural choice to have her travel with them to Paris, where they are performing at the Opera de Paris in the production of “I Capuleti E I Montecchi.” While there, they were able to meet up with her cousin, Dominic, which was an added bonus! He’s been living in Paris for a while now, though he travels the world as a professional Tango dancer and instructor.
There is much joy in “living Paris,” once again, through our daughter’s visit. While she and the grandchildrens’ stay is for much longer than her sisters and mine was (7 weeks to our 9 days), it is wonderful to see how they are meeting people who live or work in the city, experiencing the everyday-ness of life there. Perhaps the only thing I do not enjoy is not being physically there with them!
One cannot help falling in love with the cemeteries of Paris. They are so hauntingly beautiful both in history and architecture. Take a snack, bring a book, stay a while (though perhaps not quite as long as its residents. Although…).
I’d be lying if I did not say that I wish it was me taking this photo of her (“Bonjour ma fille!”). I’m sure her sisters feel the same (“Bonjour ma soeur!”). The only thing better would be to have our entire family together — there — sipping café crème and chocolat chaud.
And while they might not see all the sights that we did on our trip in 2009, it is obvious that they are all having fun making memories and inhaling deeply each day as it unfolds Paris-style.
Someday I hope to visit Paris again. Hopefully, with a little more time to spend there, so that I can sit reading on a bench and picnicking on la Seine, drinking French wine with my love — with no urgency to be anywhere but “here.” More time, so that I, too, can visit with artist friends like Laly Mille and Valerie Roussel, seeing the city and its art through their eyes.
Until then, “Ne changez rien vous concernant Paris !”