the time before their trip to paris dwindled into the last few moments; they said farewell.
in those last days, they soaked up so much warmth from those around them – letters poured in, filled with inspiration and quotes about seeing the world and living one’s dreams. one line resonated over and over in her heart: feel the fear and do it anyway.
a couple they have adored for years, and a couple that they have known for only a short time, joined them around the dining table for an evening of wine & cheese tasting. immediately, the six blended naturally into the perfect evening, as though they had all known one another forever. bottles and bottles of wine were uncorked and poured, sloshing on the inside curve of wine glasses. hands reached across to table for pieces of bread, for olives, for figs with sea salt. a board was laid with seven gorgeous cheeses, including a nutty cave-aged gouda that quickly became the favourite. they all shared stories and laughter around the table, sipping and savoring. the evening finished with pecan tarts and lattes served in bowls. they lingered until it was late, then hugged and kissed at the front door, holding their friends tightly for a moment too long, knowing it would be the last time for a little while.
they held and kissed babies that would be grown when they return.
every day they steeped in the appreciation of the pleasures of a familiar life: their thick white duvet, their apartment at the edge of the water, the espresso bubbling in their stove top maker. between the days of packing and planning, she took moments for herself: one and a half hours spent in a spa massage with candles and lavender oil, a visit to the bombay brow bar for perfect shaping and calming rosewater, a soothing manicure and pedicure with a pale pink polish called ‘petal’. on one of the last mornings before their flight, she and her love visited a cafe for breakfast, to slow the pace of the day. it’s the sort of cafe in which they might bump into old friends, or have a long conversation with the french barista. it is a cosy heritage home of soft sheepskin, of wood blankets, of reclaimed wool, of imported french ingredients, of local organic produce, of flaky croissants. she sipped in a beautiful vintage tea cup near the window and told him what she was dreaming of for paris. outside, leaves fell quietly. autumn truly had arrived; the air was light and crisp, the sky clear – those days between late summer and early winter inspired her, days filled with change.
on the last evening spent with her family, she clasped elegant vintage-inspired crystal earrings onto her ears. her sister, her parents, her grandparents: three generations gathered together to give their love. while she sipped on what may be her thousandth latte in a paper starbucks cup, her grandmother sipped her first. she showed her grandparents photographs of where they would travel in europe; although they had been born before air travel was commonplace, they were now swiping their fingers across a glass screen of the ipad looking at the places their granddaughter would travel in across another continent. the whole family shared stories from when she was a tiny baby, from before she could remember. they told her that she had always asked questions, had always posed for photographs, had always sought beauty. they shared laughter and tears, her family remembers when she was small enough to hold in their arms. her grandmother told them that she had already started sewing a blanket for a great-grandchild… and that she hoped they would have one soon. as the evening drew to its end, her mama pulled her close and then she realized that she would not see her family again before paris, that she would not see them again until january. all of a sudden, a beautiful light-hearted evening was washed with the waves of emotions inside of her. she hugged and kissed her family at the front door, and then, unable to let them go, she walked with them to the dark streets to see them off. the moment had finally come to say goodbye. while she had expected that the heaviest weight of the reality of their move would come on the day that they would board the plane, it had in fact come on the evening that she said farewell to those that she loves so dearly. her father stood, quiet, taking in the moment in his own way; last moments are as difficult for him as they are for his daughter. she held her mama and sister tightly, together in one embrace as tears fell down all of their cheeks. she let them go and then went back for one last hug for her mama, both of them sobbing. she blew kisses and waved, and they were gone. her love held her close and walked her inside. he ran her a warm bath and she sank into the tub and cried. she hiccuped and sighed and wondered why they had chosen to leave. she cupped the warm bathwater in her hands and poured it over her face, fresh water mixing with the saltiness of sadness. he held her and whispered into her ear, it is beautiful that there are so many tears — it means that there is so much love. yes, pure love, she believed him. they packed their life into a stack of boxes. they knew that despite the dreams that they were about to live, they would miss this beautiful life and the beautiful people that are a part of it; they said farewell.