My last day in Paris.

My last Paris post … this is the day I have been pushing out of my mind for the past 30 days … the moment I, somewhat, have been dreading.

We cannot escape the clock. The time always comes, doesn’t it?

There’s an idiomatic French phrase I learned my Junior year in high school, French IV with Madame Meeker, and I have never forgotten it since she told me the translation … le temps s’en va … time is fleeting.

My 16 year old self completely understood that … time is fleeting … hold on while you can. And I’ve been, or at least trying to,  hold on. I attempt to enjoy all time, even the time that seems to drag on endlessly because I know it, too, is joy.

But this … My People … this I don’t know how to handle : me leaving Paris.

My heart aches. Tears want to fall. I’m telling you … I’m not normal for these kinds of reactions. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, I am still trying to understand how to leave the places I so love.

When I am here, a part of me has returned home. It is natural and obvious. Every ounce of my soul feels it. To leave that, hurts my soul.

Yet, I do not want to stay here, indefinitely. That does not feel right either.

I am excited to see The BF, my fabulous friends, my beloved animals {how I’ve missed their warmth and purrs and even B’s annoying barking at other dogs}.

I am anxious with anticipation of what the future holds, and most of all, I look forward to more creating of my self and my life when I get back … it’s going to be good, damn good.

But first comes saying goodbye to Paris … I know this is just one of many more goodbye’s to come and that it’s not really a goodbye — goodbye’s imply a finality to me. There is nothing final about me leaving Paris.

There will be more trips. More sights and crepes and walks and cafés and bridges.

Paris will wait for me.

I’ll be sad, yes,  and I will struggle to get on the plane, to take one last look at what I think, is the most inspiring city. To walk up the steps of the métro, knowing I’ll be back, but not knowing when that will be.

I’ll look at the Seine, close my eyes, feel the wind through my hair, smell the water and will try to memorize every detail.

Paris, je t’aime. But, you know that already.

So I have to look ahead, to the new, to the adventure of not knowing, of being happy with that, because this is what I find so thrilling about life … the unexpected, the “who knows”.

While I don’t know when I will be back discovering more narrow cobblestone streets at unmentionable late night hours, I do know that it will continue to be with those I love, and that’s enough for me.

Time might be fleeting … but I’m not.