Alyson and I arrived on a Sunny Saturday morning. We held hands in the back seat of the taxi. I was so happy to see her returning to a city she loves, and I just love to hear the sound of her voice when she speaks in French.
We drop our bags at the hotel and set foot on the street. Jet lag comes in waves, and I feel like Im on a boat rocking, the ground is spongy, not solid. My eyes are dry and burning slightly from the cabin air and the tears from watching the inflight movies. I feel a slight tremble in my hands.
Our hotel room is only slightly larger than a double bed. The windows open wide with no screens or bars, inviting in the street below. As we swoon in an out of sleep, trying to nap off our jet lag, the sound of scooters, clinking of plates in the brasserie, and women’s heals on the cobble stones fade in and out.
June 10, 2017