I spent yesterday afternoon looking through travel photos. It's always exciting to look back at all the places I've been fortunate enough to see and experience. And I realized that the most fun and interesting parts of vacation for me are the times when we're just wandering about, not specifically focused on seeing any one thing. Sure, the well-known sites are a must; however, it's the little things that really stick in your mind when you get back home. This photo is one of those little things. In 2005 we were in Paris with Rachel and Veronica. Tony surprised me with a renewal of our wedding vows - 10 years at the time. We met Brandy in her neighborhood with the rain falling ever so lightly. We walked, slowly, straight uphill to an intimate and perfect spot to renew our vows. As we walked, I was overwhelmed by how blessed I was to have such an amazing husband, wonderful daughters, and fantastic family and friends. And then I passed by this door. For me, it represented all the beauty and wonder that was left to come - all the doors left to open. So, I share with you this photo, and this memory - of a girl wandering about Paris, not specifically focused on seeing any one thing, and filled with hope for an amazing future.
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It's amazing how that door has somehow managed to make us both notice it, for it is mysteriously very demeure, yet all the while trying to enticingly catch your attention. That door for me has found a special place in my mind as well.
I remember a few years back it was one of those bright Parisian spring mornings when the gray of winter had finally decided to retire. Those mornings I am up early with all the light pouring into my little rooftop dollhouse. I put my cinnamon coffee to drip and decided to walking down that hill to go to the neighborhood chocolaterie to get a croissant and pain au chocolat (no doubt the best in Paris!).
From the house with the blue door and lush ivy there was a woman in her big fluffy robe romantically leaning out the window with a steaming cup of coffee. The window was full length, with a thin wrought iron railing waist-high and those big wooden painted shutters that dramatically open outward.
That house to me was in no way Parisian, rather appearing to have been designed to be admired in Aix en Provence. That morning I just wasn't in Paris anymore somehow. I wasn't anywhere other than on the cobblestone footpath that runs in front of that house.
Anyways, her smile was soft and serene and she looked so content, like she was having one of those "une rencontre avec la vie" moments. No one else was milling about yet, no tourists, no people bustling off to work, it was just us.
Our regards met, and with a smile, we exchanged a sentence without words: "Aren't we lucky..."
It was beautiful and truly magical indeed. So often I find myself living in the past or in the near future, never quite in the actual present. It was wonderful to feel myself in the now, smiling at a blue door, with my soul whispering to it like a secret "aren't we lucky" :)
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