the last holiday

Hope you had a happy Independence Day, America!  

I know what you're thinking. Yes, that bi-color typing was as annoying for me to do as it is for you to read. And yes, Joe is wearing a fake Freddie Mercury-esque mustache.

I spent the morning of the fourth getting rather worried that I would look like a giant reptile. My severe sunburn, after calming down, switched into major blister-and-peeling mode. Growing up, I was obsessed with picking at any wounds, flaking loose paint from anything I could reach & dipping my finger in melted wax just to chip it off. Peeling sunburns are rather distracting for me.

I also have lotion that smells like the "Mediterranean South"–loads of lavender & fig. It's almost too much for me to handle when I'm using it once a day. Now that I'm slathering it on five or six times, I feel like the smell will never leave me. My new skin will just grow right over the perfumes, & I'll come home smelling like the south of France. Maybe that's a good thing?

When it finally came time to celebrate, we totaled about eight Frenchmen, three British girls & three Americans. The numbers don't even accurately reflect the revolution. I'm happy to report the the Red Coats & Colonists got along rather well for the evening. That may have something to do with the fact that we spent most of it, when not stuffing our face with our friend's fabulous apple & cherry pies, soaking up gin or whiskey. (Again, representing both countries... though I think the whiskey ended up being Scottish. Hey, we were trying.)

For more pictures from the night, click here. Not pictured is the walk from our friend's to the party location–about ten minutes of pie-, pallet- & pasta salad-carrying. We looked like a mess, but we were too excited for ourselves to care. Also not pictured:

There were no national anthems, no fireworks, no true families, but we had a great evening. The night was our last big outing, our sort of farewell to our night life here. It was another friend's last night in town–when I woke up to type this, she was already three hours into her travels–so our original group of friends has dwindled quickly. We're the hangers-on, the last bits of those that have to leave.

The soirée had us thinking of home for obvious reasons, & for once I forgot about all the tasks in between. It will be so nice to watch Joe & Dad starting the fire, getting our dinner going while my youngest cousins run around the backyard & the Ladies sit on the deck. It will be nice to sit around a table with Joe's sisters & the families that they're building, each of us sharing our year's adventures.

Hope you had a happy, safe holiday. I'm back to packing!

Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.

two weeks

Walking home from grocery shopping today, I said that I was sad we only had three weeks left. Joe said that at this point, it had to be less than three weeks. "What's the date?" he asked.

June 23. Exactly two weeks from our departure date. At this time in two weeks, we will be checking in at CDG, ready for a two-hour flight & a night spent in the Dublin airport. [Pause for heaving sobs.]

I'm not really sure what to say after that. I've stopped reading & writing. I've begun watching loads of movies. I don't leave the apartment much due to the rain. I eat through my feelings–mostly brownies & crackers. I've become completely worthless, & I think it's only going to get worse.

It's amazing how quickly time passes, & I'm trying to see our return to the States as another countable period before the next trip to France–or who knows? Some other French-speaking country... (Honestly, we're not even that particular about it being a French-speaking country, though I'd come back to France permanently if flights back to Ohio were a reasonable price & not such a disaster for the environment.)

It's hard for me to think through everything that will happen between tomorrow & the end of August, especially since I'm used to having my to-do list finalized weeks in advance. I'm trying to focus on the little things–talking to my goddaughter, not paying six dollars for salsa, painting my toe nails, exercising with my sister, waking up early, chasing my pet rabbit around.

The days will be full. It will take us a while to start missing this place, but when the distance sinks in there will be a hole in my heart as big as the hole in my cheese variety. You can't talk to France on the phone like you can talk to your parents.

Still walking home, after Joe asked the date, we passed a group of boys. One of them was wearing a t-shirt, saying something to the effect of "I was born here by chance." There is a pride that we are expected to be born with, a love of our country & its history that is supposed to come naturally to us.

I've spent a year answering questions about California and SUVs and New York and Obama's blackness. I've spent a year explaining to people that we do not all live in Orange County and that there are forty states in between the coasts that also have beautiful histories. I've spent a year realizing that the image foreigners have of America & its glory is neither an image I share nor an image I'm apart of.

The fears I have about the health of my home culture, society & government do not–and indeed cannot–exist here. Citizens of France do not worry about how they will pay for their cancer treatment or how their food has been genetically modified. There is corporate influence, but there is still the sentiment that the government is for and OF the people.

I will miss that most. I bring this up now because when I think of my future in the States, it is these fears that dictate how I see my life playing out. Will my time here push me harder & faster to a position where I can affect changes that will begin to eliminate those fears for Americans? Or will I become so discouraged & even more afraid than I am now–until I feel that I must flee to give my children the kind of society I feel most natural in? According to Winston Churchill, "Americans can always be counted on to do the right thing...after they have exhausted all other possibilities." I find myself wondering if this is the point we are near, if I'm meant to be a part of our moment to finally do the right thing.

But for now I have plenty to distract me. Soon, these thoughts will float not only through my mind but through my course discussions & career focus. Today & tomorrow, there are cell phones & utilities to cancel, laundry to do, showers to scrub. There are friends to hang out with, school programs to attend (where Joe will be leading the little ones in English songs). There are jobs to apply to, for both of us.
 
Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.