Facebook has this habit of throwing up memories in your face every morning- this day last year or five years back; whatever. Most of the times I dismiss them with a shrug but the one that popped up today was something truly special.
It was on this day last year that I arrived in Paris for the first time. The trip was a dream come true, a dream that I had folded carefully and tucked away deep somewhere in the corner of my mind, telling it to rest in peace.
On this date last year I walked the streets of Paris, gazed in awe at the majestic Louvre, offered heartfelt prayers of thanks at the Sunday mass in Sacre-Coeur, wandered through the picturesque and fascinating little shops in the by lanes of Montmartre and took an elevator to the dizzying heights of the Eiffel Tower. I remember telling myself repeatedly- this is me… this is Paris… this is really me in Paris!
It was a trip that I will remember for the rest of my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever visit Paris again and it doesn’t even matter. Because nothing will ever be like the first time I saw Paris.
This trip to France was special in many other ways too. Not just because of the places I saw but also because of the people I met. And the most special of them was Anne. She welcomed me into her lovely home with a warmth that defied the blustery cold winds of her town- Boulogne. She is proof that God does answer prayers and He really does move in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. I treasure the moments spent chatting with her and her absolutely delightful parents. Aline, her adorable doll-like daughter (she was reason Anne entered my life) and Adrien, her teenage son who gave up his room to me (very last-minute and with no warning whatsoever) with the utmost good grace and cheer…these are memories that I brought back with me from France more carefully than all the chocolates and cheeses that were presented to me by Anne and her family.
I don’t know if I’ll ever meet them again. I don’t even know if we’ll continue to remain in touch in the years ahead. But it doesn’t matter. Because I’ll have my memories. I’ll fold them carefully and tuck them away deep somewhere in the corner of my mind. Next to all those other dreams that may come true after all.
But until then, there’s always Facebook!
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