Twenty Two in the City of Love

I’ve become a lover of temporary places.

I sometimes wonder where I will be in ten or twenty years, and if I'll say to myself 'it's been so long since this or how many years has it now been since that', and if maybe what was once my constant, will then seem like a fleeting moment in time. 

Sometimes I feel I am between wanting to run back as fast and hard as I can, and other times, like right now, I'm running freely forward and I am so ready for all that is still to come.

If there is anything I have learnt and am continuing to learn, it is to practice and to trust the inevitability of uncertainty.

In eight months somehow I've begun to have dreams in French, I understand the conversations around me well enough and I can give directions to strangers or discuss the weather with the neighbours, or, better yet, get into the intricacies of 'well I'm from here, but I also lived there and there but I was born there'.

French is a beautiful language, it’s true what they say. I've begun to appreciate languages themselves and words and sounds and all of it so much more, the way it connects and allows you to emphasise differently and how there are different words for emotions and events in one you may not find in another. How they take home differently within your mouth, your tongue, your voice.

Twenty two years, and I feel like I remember the weight of nearly every single one like it was yesterday.

All those years exploring the world with my family growing up, my eyes growing brighter at all the sights and size of the world, suddenly feeling small and significant at the same time, tongue tripping over new languages, all those street names and houses and letters wrote and hellos and goodbyes.

Currently I’m sitting on my bedroom floor after a night of holding back tears of happiness as Madeline had organised a surprise birthday dinner for me. I thought it will be a normal dinner with me and the boys yet the doorbell rang and I opened up the door to Madeline herself and the family all singing happy birthday holding a homemade cake, a birthday banner and precious gifts.

It was all music playing and an atmosphere of family and contentment and the dim lights of the room with the fairy and lantern lights and laughter and bisous on the cheeks and candles on the cake and joking about and singing and dancing that made my heart very well nearly burst. 

It’s after 1 in the morning, and I've saved reading Madeline's poems and writing she has put for me into a small handmade book called '22 trips around the sun', the name itself and hand painted picture on the front was enough to form a knot in my throat.

The people we meet and films we see and books we read and places we explore all become part of us, and stay with us, and return to us in different forms when it just so happens that we can't keep them within arm's length forever. 

Life so far has taught me there's magic in quiet afternoons, seemingly ordinary moments, and thoughtful gestures. Each place I've lived, each friend I've made, fills the spaces in my heart, making it whole again.

Today, as I celebrate twenty-two, my heart overflows with gratitude for the memories, the lessons, the love, and all the adventures yet to come.

Here's to another year around the sun—full of possibilities, discovery, and endless wonder,

Gros bisous