je pense que c'est un au revoir

All I can think about is ink and coffee stains on napkins. And none of that means anything to anyone, except me.

I wear my rain boots when I walk the streets of Paris. I bought them two sizes too big so that I could catch the rain in my boots. I never carry an umbrella with me. But if I do, I open it facing the ground so more rain pours in.

I've seen the Eiffel Tower, but that's not the reason why I came to Paris. I came to taste the cheese, smell freshly baked bread. But most of all, I came to feel the words drip from my fingertips, drip from my fingertips to the pages. I came to feel Paris take my heart and never give it back.

I came to Paris to realize that it's okay to bleed. The scrapes on my knees will tell you where I've been, where I have bled. And although the cuts hurt, healing is the best part. The stains remain so I can be reminded of my past, but also to remind me of how much stronger I have become.

Paris taught me that it doesn't matter what other people think. And although people stare at me eat as I walk the streets of Paris, I do it anyway.

And I will never know everything, but I still try, reaching my palms towards heaven hoping God will be generous. And he has been very generous, painting the universe on the palms of my hands and teaching me the constellations.

"And that one is Orion," I say. And God nods, reassuring me that everything will be okay.

But when God is busy, I stand in telephone booths, and speak with His angel secretaries. It costs 25 cents to call Heaven, to get unlimited access to Heaven. And the people outside bang on the glass and tell me my time is up. Someone insists that their call to their brother in Alabama is more important than my call to Heaven. But I can't hear them. Months of practice and I have managed to block them out completely. In the end, Heaven is all that matters.

I've made calls to Hell, too. I call the Devil and insist he visits me this afternoon- he owes me that much. We sit in the garden and sip our tea, but we forget, on purpose of course, the napkins for when we spill. We talked about silly things, nonsense really. And when we finished we threw our teacups behind us, letting them shatter into a thousand pieces. We laugh in unison, the Devil and I, and make everyone jealous of our sinful friendship.

I am a part of Paris. I gave Paris my heart and I will never ask to have it back. I find my self melting into walls of cafés and I am okay with that. Paris has become my home, not just some place I dream about. 

I feel comfortable here.

Audrey said, "Paris is always a good idea." And I believed her.

Avec Amour,
Lois Lane