It’s day 19 of our 28 day trip. This is the point in every trip where I try to kill myself cramming in all that I can. It is when I start whining about how I’m not ready for it to end.
This time I want to go home badly. My dad has been getting weaker and weaker until they had to take him to the emergency room last night.
When it’s 7am in Paris, that time difference to the central U.S. makes you feel like you may as well be on Mars. I walked for 4 hours this morning waiting for it to be “not too early” there.
Now I’m staring out the window of my apartment into a clear Paris sky and all I can think about is going home. I did get an update. My dad is home. He’s not better but at least he’s home.
I’m going to will myself to get up and go outside into the streets of Paris and continue to find joy in the little things. It’s what my dad expects of me. “You got to take time to smell the roses”, he used to say. He’d laugh right now if I could tell him how many miles I’ve walked in two weeks (117). And he would be pretty proud. So as much as I’d like to sit here and weep, I’m going to continue to have this Paris journey.
This journey. At the end of the day it is our journey that defines who we are. We are all headed for the same destination.