T-24 Hours. Pret? Allez! (Ready GO!)

If someone told you that you had 24 hours left, what would you do? A bit dramatic, I admit, but the principle stays the same. 24 hours in the city called Paris. 24 hours to soak up every last cobblestone street, mentally photograph my favorite works of art, savor the buttery macarons and croissants (and goat cheese), admire the impeccably dressed French (especially the men; I feel I will be having a good-looking-fashionable-intelligent-sophisticated-and cultured-yet-straight–as-an-arrow-man dry spell. Is it bad that before leaving I didn’t like the pants around the knees, and upon a return, the mere thought of the boxers and sloppy shirts revolts me?), and hold on to everything.

Is this all doable? Nope. Am I trying? Not really, anymore. Why? Because I am in complete and totally denial that I will wake up tomorrow in a place I called home for so long, yet has never felt so unfamiliar.

One thing has not changed at all – my adoration of Audrey Hepburn. She glows in her roles, and though I have a developed an affinity for French cinema, the mark of a classic film is one which is enjoyed at a young age, yet understood and substantially appreciated at a later time: Breakfast at Tiffany’s. We saw it in Paris’ international film center. a quaint little theater, with blue satin walls and baroque, ornate, metal flower sconces. Only in France!

Yesterday Kate, Emma, and I walked. And walked. And walked. All day, all over Paris. I picked up a special treat for the Pearson clan, and just breathed in the air. Last night, we went to dinner at my favorite place near my apartment, Charles’ (the café that my friend Charles owns – I never did learn the real name of the café). Afterwards, Emma and Kate sat on top of my suitcases while I tried to zip them (fail) and we went to the Eiffel Tower for one last glimpse of the monument twinkling. To some, it’s a symbol of France. Now, I have walked by it everyday on my way to school, I have studied its history, written a final paper on its nationalistic critique and evolution, had lunch under it in the sun, taken pictures with it in the snow, and most importantly, it has seen the evolution of my person. Saying my moments there last night were my last for a while must mean I’m really going home. WOMPWOMP. (Told ya, I’m in denial!) The excursion was followed up by my favorite dessert (chocolate moeulleux cake) at the café La Terrace, we love there, and we love the waiters, and its right next to the tower! Tonight I’m spending the night sleeping with Kate and Emma – we’re going to stay up as long as we can watching Sex and the City’s series finale: An American Girl in Paris, Parts Une et Deux.

Oh Paris. Oh to stay here forever. What I would give to call it my permanent home.

But if I must return to NY, which it seems I must (I just ordered my 5:30am cab), at the very least I hope Melvin remembers me….