Paris is my soul

All my life I've been obsessed with Paris. With France. With all things French. I don't know when it started but I do know that I took four years of high school French when certainly any other language would have been more beneficial to my livelihood. (I filled out an application to work at the CIA after grad school and when it asked for languages spoken I really really wished I could put down Farsi instead.) During my senior year of high school it was announced that there would be a Monet exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago. I begged my parents to take me. And they did. (Side note: I am drinking my tea from London out of a mug from that very art exhibit this morning as I type. It has made it through five moves in twenty years!)

It was during those high school French classes when I would sit and imagine what it would be like to walk the streets of Paris. But the funny thing is, I never really thought I'd get there. Just like I never really believed I'd live anywhere but near my hometown in Michigan. Back then I didn't even know it was really possible to do such things. But I'd soon learn...

My bedroom at my parents' house got a framed poster from the Money exhibit. My first apartment got a giant framed poster of the Eiffel Tower being built. My house now has actual photos hanging on the walls that I took in France. It also have actual paintings I bought along the Seine on my last day in the city. My workspace is covered in photos and mag
nets from my time there. Paris is in my soul.

When Angela and I planned our European adventure, we made sure Paris was our destination. London was lovely, but it was a weekend away from our real destination. Ten nights just blocks from Notre Dame. Two weeks roaming the streets, learning the metro stops, hearing the music that is the language, eating the pastries like we were locals. What I thought would be terrifying -- stepping out onto the street of a country where I barely spoke the language and living there for two weeks was really just the opposite. I never felt scared or lost or alone. Paris was more than I could have ever imagined.

The people were friendly. The city welcoming. The adventure perfect. We were hesitant to return home, though I did welcome the thought of my own bed. But I still wake up thinking wouldn't it be nice if I could stumble down the circular staircase to the basement and have a giant mug of cafe au lait, some cheese, some salami, some yogurt, and a fresh croissant like we did every morning there? I still close my eyes and can feel the grass under my hands as we sit and wait, for hours on end, watching people and soaking in the culture, waiting for the sun to go down and la Tour Eiffel to light up?

I learned about the attacks last night first on Twitter. That's where I get so much of my news nowadays, it's almost surreal. There between the jokes and the complaints and the commentary on Hollywood I saw that there had been a shooting. And then a bombing. I didn't turn on the TV, almost afraid of what I would see. Paris. Shredded.

The stories of humanity coming out of the city last night and this morning help. There are so many good people in the world. So many kind hearts and loving souls. And they will for sure overshadow any hatred or violence the few can manage. And yet? It's heartbreaking. When we finally did turn on the television last night I watched through tears
. Knowing that so many lives had been shattered and that so many would now have to pick up the pieces and try to carry on.

Paris is in my soul. I know the city. I know the streets. I know which way the Louvre is from the Eiffel Tower. I know which train to take back to Notre Dame. I think about the girl who worked in the restaurant we ate in several nights and pray she's okay. I pray we are all okay.

Because we are not. We are not okay. We are shaken and we are scared and we are hurt and we are angry. We are at war. Every day, all day, over so much and so little. Our hearts ache, our souls cry, our brains overload.

There's not much I can do. There's not much any of us can do. That realization is hard. That realization is maddening. And yet? There is. We can call the people we love and stay on the phone just a little bit longer. We can give hugs and sit on the sofa and just be. We can go out and do good. Be good. We can shine, even if it's hard at first or seems fruitless. If we shine, the world shines. And the world will shine again. It has to.