Mayday

Can't believe my time here is coming to an end. Absolutely cannot. Most everyone says that at the end of their four months abroad, they are only beginning to feel comfortable in their placement abroad, just starting to really solidify those connections and friendships, and feel like the place is theirs. And not to sound like a pretentious asshole, but I started feeling at home here about six weeks in. Seriously. This place is awesome. I have never loved a city more than Paris, apart from dear Seattle that will always come first.

The past couple of days, the reality of leaving has really been sinking in. It is not so much the leaving aspect that startles me, but rather the fact that come Friday, I will no longer be living here. Going to classes here. Eating here. Sleeping here. Going out here. Shopping here. Looking out my bedroom window here. Making my morning tea while Madame is breakfasting and listening to the radio. Etc. Etc. Etc.

It is totally bizarre that my time here is up. I can't even say it gracefully. Things start and things end and new things begin. In about 36 hours, I will be starting the next little vignette of my life, and it will be almost as if I never spend four months living in a foreign city. Maybe when I'm in my mid-forties I'll revisit Europe with my husband and two young children and complain to an exasperated waiter: "pardon, garçon, but my college French is escaping me" and he will look upon me with disgust and I will never be able to explain how I once called this place my home and loved it as if I had always lived here. But let's stay optimistic... anyway, I promised Madame I'd be back soon enough anyway, and I could never in my life break a promise to my dear host mom. I would never, ever forgive myself. The past few days have been rough and I am already missing her even though we are still cohabiting and I have been trying to combat the imminent guilt of leaving by buying her little presents, but that hasn't helped much. I'll probably just have fattened her up instead.

As a parting gift, some good-looking doors:

That's right. I'm even gonna miss the doors.