28 December 2014
Paris in the spring
Firstly, hello. I hope your Christmases were lovely -- in every grand and little way!
Secondly, apologies for the holiday-induced radio silence.
And thirdly...Robbie surprised me with plane tickets to Paris on Christmas day. We'll be going in the spring...and frankly, I can't even talk about it (to any real extent). I'm still in shock over the whole thing.
He said this is to make up for all the bad Christmases that came before him. The one where Dad left. The few after that when my mum could not afford presents. Even a tree. The one when I was 16 and someone dear to me decided he would take his life. The truth is that things can't make up for other things. And I wouldn't want new memories to cover up or erase the other less pleasant ones anyway. When it comes down to it.
But what new memories can do is better than a vanishing act, some magician's illusion; what it is, is real magic. The promise of newness compels me ever onward. It is the strongest elixir to my soul, which so very often clings to things (that hurt). Because I can't not. This is my nature. I have been told this is my downfall.
But Paris. Paris is a new thing to cling to.
He tucked the tickets behind a map of Paris in a cylindrical poster container, and I pulled them out, dumbfounded. I think he (and everyone in on the surprise) fully expected me to jump up and down and start screaming, but I was in a literal state of shock. And. Just. Stared. I mumbled, "what? no? is this a joke?" it took me about five minutes to completely digest the details -- the when, the where, the how of it. And then I cried. This is how I react, apparently, to wonderful things.
In the middle of the night, I woke up, walked calmly to the bathroom. I looked myself in the mirror, watched a big, stupid grin spread from cheek to cheek, and then I jumped up and down for probably three minutes. Then I hobbled back to our darkened bedroom, and attempted to fall back asleep but actually stared at the ceiling for a very, very long time.
And Paris in the spring is a good reason not to sleep, if you ask me.