Paris is a beautiful city, full of museums, parks, and narrow cobblestoned streets that I have spent 5 months exploring. The churches are some of the most beautiful places that I have ever seen and the architecture is unlike any that I will ever see again. But there are some things that, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to find in Europe.
'Speed of the Sound of Loneliness' is a beautiful John Prine song that my dad plays a lot in late afternoons, I never noticed it- nor did i even know what it was called- but its a wonderful song. This morning I found it stuck in my head, so I got it online and turned it on…it didn't help…for some reason, it doesn't carry the same meaning when I am listening to it alone in my apartment in Paris. What I wanted was to be on my dads living room couch, him coming home from work, opening a soda, and sitting down next to me.
All of last summer, my friends and I listened to the same songs over and over again…songs that are just not done justice when I hear them out at parisian dance clubs.
I have been lucky enough, my whole life, to never really be alone. My friends are truly amazing, genuine, honest people- and always have been. I have ridden a sometimes bumpy road- but the people with me have made it more than bearable. As I look around my walls, here, in Paris, at my photos- I wonder what exactly I was running from. I think even of the fights that I've been in with my closest friends, even with people that I stopped speaking to…and I can now realize that every one of these fights was only out of love.
It's hard when you really care about someone, to understand that. Its hard to see through a haze of anger and realize that all you want is the best for everyone that you care about- most of the fights i've gotten into with my best friend were because I wasn't caring for myself enough and she had to remind me to try.
For so many years I have been blessed to be surrounded by people who care for me, people who have my best intentions always at heart. To leave all of these people for another country, where I was alone, really shook me to the core. I thrive on being in good company. I love spending time with people that I love.
I have never laughed or cried harder than in times spent with those closest to me- those who have seen me at my best and my worst. I'm not, in fact, one to really express emotion- but in these past few days, my excitement to get home has been almost unbearable. Making plans to go to dinner, to spend weekends in Albany, to drive to DC…it seems truly surreal, and now, after 5 months, I can appreciate that more than I ever imagined possible.
It sounds cliche to say that I didn't know how good I had it, back home, and I guess it's ridiculous that I had to travel to a foreign country for 5 months in order to realize that…but sometimes, you do have to learn things the hard way.
It's interesting to think about…here, in Paris, I have my own apartment. The city is gorgeous, there are unlimited options for activities, I can't get a job, I go to class 4 times a week, and the term "allowance" hasn't really applied since I was in America. I think that this, more than anything, has served as an example to prove that money cannot buy happiness. Tomorrow, I am going out to one of the best restaurants in Paris, I will eat and drink well, and be in good company- it will be fun, and a great meal…but i would give anything to be able to sit down on a couch with Maggie and Marmol, order cappachinos pizza, and drink andre out of the bottle (as I will be doing very soon)… Maybe thats just the class in me, though.
I've never really understood crying out of happiness or excitement…I think I did, once, in a Jim Carey movie, but thats a separate story. But the feeling that I get when I think of landing in JFK, of getting off that plane, and of walking into my moms apartment- of seeing my dog, my brother, my mom… its indescribable. Imagining stepping into my dads living room, where I know he will be waiting patiently…cracking open that first can of diet pepsi and sitting down on the couch…well, it makes me feel like I am the luckiest person in the world- and I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.
There is so much that I look forward to when I get home- I have so many graduates to see and so many open arms to run into. I have stories to tell, and stories to hear.
They say that people come to Paris looking for love- well, as a… wise woman once said…
I don't think that that love is here…
no, it is not in this quaint apartment in this beautiful city…in Paris- in fact, it is right where I left it: at home.
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