Months have passed since my arrival to England. Months have passed since I left the familiar for the unfamiliar, the French for the English, the homeland for the motherland.
Paris has been calling me back though. I have heard the whispers in my dreams. The memories have pulled at the strings of my emotions. The longings to return to a place that held such promise once upon a time...
I returned to Paris one week ago. Solo. Just me and Paris, like it had always been. And yet, everything was different.
The sun shone, but it was different. The streets were noisy with singers, garbage trucks, and ambulance sirens, but they were different. The tourists blocked my way, the Parisians were rude, and my apartment was exactly how I left it, but everything, everything was different.
As I walked the avenues, I sensed that it'd be my last time. As I relaxed in the cafe, I knew that the cafe I was sipping would be my last. As I left my apartment and locked the door, I felt that the door would be left shut for a very long time. And then when I boarded the airplane to leave, I overheard my soul say goodbye.
I didn't realize that I had moved on since my departure. I thought there was a part of me still there. And maybe that was the case.. perhaps I simply came face to face with the stranger in me. Because now that I have returned to England, I feel whole. I feel like I made the right move. I feel like any part of me that was left behind in France has since regrown into the life I lead here now.
Paris, my favorite city in the world, I know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your crazy nights, your wonderful baguettes, and your incessant pull on my soul. But I have moved on now. With only the fondest of memories that will bring me round for visits in the future, take wonderful care, and keep those Parisians on their toes for me. I'll be back. Someday. I'll be back. But never to stay.
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