Home again...almost.

Well, it has been nearly a week since we left Paris.  Irony of ironies, we found ourselves leaving rue des ecoles exactly one year to the day of when we found our home away from home.  It was a bittersweet day in that I bid adieu to my new, dear friend Gabrielle.  Each of us looking at the other, asking,"Do you have a cold?" and each of us grasping onto that excuse to explain the glassy eyes and sniffling. 

I looked at the apartment, devoid of our belongings, those things that added our character to the place and I knew I was ready to go home.

After a whirlwind month of last minute guests and friends who had long ago planned an autumn in Paris and in addition to the myriad of visits from transportation and transition assistants, I was packed and ready to go.  I had visited the Louvre, the Luxembourg, and Normandy.  We revisited a few old favorite restaurants and packed in quite a few from our must visit list into the waning days and nights of our sojourn.  It was a bit of sensory overload at times and in the midst of it all, there were the farewells to new friends and places that were forming my Paris network.  I cried a little; actually a lot less than I thought I would.  I guess the remaining weeks with a few friends, scoping out the markets, favored walkways and benches afforded me the best way to say good-bye.  It hurt a little, but I was glad to be going home.

The French did there best to give us a good bye and a bad bye...of course, it is so French to do this.  The people who became a part of my day to day life were sad to hear we were leaving.  Even the folks at the salon welled up a little as I said good bye.  The guys at our favorite pizza place on Rue Cluny were surprised that we were leaving so soon and I snuck a quick hug from one of the guys who every day would say Bonjour and Buon giorno to Reilly and me as we passed by on one of our regular excursions down to the river.  And in almost every case, our voisins wanted to know if we would miss Paris....do we love Paris....and remember the good things about Parisians....yes, of course and we'll try!

But October brought strikes and trash and impatience.  Parisians were not always at their best, and yet for the most part, they persevered.  Just when you thought people would come together because of the increased terror threats and the unending protests, sometimes our Parisian neighbors would get a little cranky and roll their eyes if our French was flawed or if you dared to ask for un caraf d'eau instead of buying bottled water....uh oh!  We found ourselves giving lots of tips, even though gratutities are built into the tab...whether it was our parting gift or a token to soothe ruffled feathers...we always left a little something more.

I can proudly claim that in the 10+ plus months I spent in Paris, going back to last October on our expeditionary tour, I did not step in any merde!  This is truly un exploit incroyable!  As my husband says,"It is good to have goals and to make them."  I am pleased. For sure, I am happy to leave that part of Paris behind us.

So coming home has been interesting.  I am glad to be back with Reilly and Gracie, our cat.  Paris was not the same without my little walking buddy and boy was she and will she be missed by all the folks who made her acquaintance.  But my little snuggle bunny was so happy to see me and I her...when  she jumped up into my arms, I felt at home.

We have been advised that repatriating can be as difficult as moving abroad.  I thought, heck, it was just under a year we were away and we are coming back to our hearth and home in Groton.  How hard can it be?  Well, it is a wee bit difficult.  I feel like I am stuck in a transitional vacuum.  I have no rhyme or rhythm to my days yet.  I do go out onto the deck and drink in the sights, sounds and scents.  But I feel a bit like a rudderless ship.  I have been home  for a few days now and giving a nod to the fact that I have been a bit under the weather and a little jet lagged, I am surprised that I have yet to see anyone...Groton carried on without me (duh) and here I am...empty nesting it again...and feeling like someone pushed the pause button in my life, but the rest of the feature continues on.  Bill is up to his eyeballs, gleefully, with work and people and meetings. So far, I have had a couple of phone calls with family and the refrigerator repair people.  So the struggle for purpose driven life strikes again!

I feel a little like I have arrived too late to a race and I am standing at the starting line, but there is no starter...I can see my friends so far ahead of me in this little race of life and I am frozen, wondering how am I ever going to catch up.  Surprisingly too, I am a bit afraid.  I am afraid that because people moved on without me, they don't need me.  I am afraid that some of the changes I have made in my life and style may not be well received here at home...well with the exception of Champagne Thursdays...my friends are liking that idea.

And speaking of Champagne Thursday, this lovely little tradition I am bringing back alive and well from Paris, it is my first effort at reconnecting with the good folks at home.  I have had a few acceptances and a few regrets sent my way...and I am looking forward to hosting une bonne fete in a couple of weeks.  I guess I have to be patient and decide if  I am going to dive back into a new life or enter one toe at a time.  I wasn't expecting a ticker tape parade upon our return, but I wasn't expecting to feel so alone in my own backyard.  I own this by the way...that fear thing has a grip on me.  I need to spark that idea that will get me out there, challenging myself once again.  I have to make my own music and create a new rhythm for my life.  Will it be a march, a waltz, a tango?  Hmm.

I am not feeling sorry for myself.  I am not disappointed in my friends and family.  I just didn't know what to expect.  I think I experienced a temporary reprieve from empty-nest syndrome, Parisian style.  I shed one skin, grew a new one and now I have to think about how well this new one will fit back in the good old USA, in good old Groton, but in a completely unscripted future.  I am a very late 40 something-ish woman who had plans to do something new and challenging...and I went to Paris and there I did something extraordinary.  Now I am back.  I can't find my plans...I have to look deep for them I guess.  I look back to where I was over a year ago and that me is sooo far away I can barely see her.  There is such a great divide behind me and all the bridges seem to have crumbled away.  There is another greater divide before me and I don't see any bridges.  I guess I have to look around for the resources to build some.  Anyone out there have a hammer?

I hope to keep writing.  I like it. I just need to think up a new topic for the next blog. 

So here is a tip of my beret to what Frank Sinatra once so aptly sang...the best is yet to come...I hope you will join me.   I am at my house...come home.