Like a lot of people, there are things that I block immediately from my thoughts, but they sit there dark and unexplored until he thinks I can face up, grow up, move on, and feel grateful for everything in life that happens on the journey. But in the middle, on the way, I sometimes lose, or think I have lost my compass.
It was a Sunday which should be a day of rest and peace. And in hindsight, it was. My Grandmother and I had been to Giverny the day before, and I went to the Hotel Regina the next morning. From my journal, I had written:
-Went to Granda’s. Long story, not worth writing.
Why could I be wise, but at times, so unwise now? For in the outpouring of words, there is a multitude of sin.
Mothers, Daughters, Grandmothers, Great-Grandmothers, women, sisters. We have the same stories, different players different roles but same love which is all that matters.
So…(from my journal notes)
-Home. Lunch at 4:00 at Café on south side of Pont Royale. Lost umbrella. walked around alot.
-Dinner with Robb Barnes [this was Gina’s older boyfriend by at least a year who was so nice that Dean and Ginny allowed her to break rule of only dating boys in her grade who I guess was traveling abroad?].
-Very nice. Good Dinner at Restaurant with sort of Neo-Classical dude’d-up [is this a French word, Paula? must have been homesick for Kansas] interior, Le Mobillard or Mollard in le Place du Havre by Gare D’Austerlitz. He is at the Hotel Atlantic on Rue de Londres-small but clean.
Dinner menu: (It was taken care of by R.B.-nice treat!)
fillet of sole
green beans and
Baked Alaska! – Fun!
[and can you imagine how?? the big brother I never had]
Lost carte d’orange.[this is the pass pour le métro which was to get me through my time in Paris. As I was on my self-induced budget with goal to bring home money to my mother for this great experience to which she had treated me, I was dismayed, mostly with myself. I still am unhappy with myself when I lose things because it happens when I do not focus. And when I am sometimes upset by things which are just a part of life, plus a major case of ADD unless I am hyperfocused on work. And of course the talking….need to listen.]
Home at 12:00. Bed.
P.S. Got to talk to mom-made my day & helped 100%.
I know now as a mother what angst this must have caused her for me to dump all these emotions I always seem to feel so deeply which went from generation to generation but no one seeing through each other’s glasses because it is always different. But at the time, her listening was just the soothing that homesick Paula needed. I need to do better about this. It is my time to listen to Lacy who so often has been my mom. To grow up.
All I really have to say is this: Paris was the best preparation for life on the High Plains that I could have ever had.
Places, People, Pictures
Boulevards, dirt roads,
le café and the cafe,
au lait or black,
du vin or Jack,
it don’t matter, de rien
home is where your heart is
and back again.
And with this loss of my carte d’orange, I only really then began to meet Paris of the street.
Walking alone, seeing, thinking, processing alone.
I so need people and so like to be alone.
Alone is good, but needy is not.
Love God, love others as myself. That is my compass.