I’ve decided Paris is like my other Boyfriend. Or like a side lover.

One who no one else really gets why you’re with and is probably secretly thinking, “get over it”, or “dump his sorry ass.”

Except I can’t get over it.

I feel embarrassed to admit that Paris is still on my mind … like all the time and when I think of Paris, I suddenly become very emotional, to the point of tears and my heart feels heavy.

I cannot get it out of my being.

This morning, I awoke thinking of the market. I pictured them wrapping up their day, wondering if all the Brie was sold out again by mid morning. Smelling those croissants and warm breads. The hand woven scarves and hats.

I go about my day, as though I never even left here. And don’t get me wrong — my days are good, and I am happy to be home, to be with friends, getting back to life … yet … I am not completely here.

How can I be? Part of me feels that I’m still there. I think it’s safe to say that Paris will always be a part of my life.

I know I posted this picture already, I just needed to again … to remind myself that it’s a real picture, that I took, on a wonderful summer evening, so I can relax, breathe easy, knowing that there will be more of these pictures to come.