Across the Ocean

Not Paris. No thanks.

The First Day

Dear Margaret,

I can’t believe I am actually here in France with you. Jetlag has me up in the middle of the night due to some spammer buzzing my phone and waking me. That was two hours ago, and here I am. I’ve spent time compiling a little album of pictures from home so you can see what everyone looks like and, importantly, the cuteness of the dogs. I encourage you to believe that they’re assholes, unlike your dogs, who are sweet and have kindness in their faces. Brian tells me that from now on he wants purebred puppies. For whatever reason he believes we won’t have so much trouble with the dogs being nuts if one of them is just a floppy labrador. He's not right, and he’s not wrong. We do have two aggressive dogs, after all. And yet it feels wrong that we would choose a dog like a labrador. I can’t help but love the misfits. A puppy is a puppy, and I will probably lose in the end. I was, after all, the one to insist on an 80-pound pit bull to rescue. It’s Brian’s turn now to make a decision about the next member of our family.

It was such a relief to see you when I got off the train today. I love your hugs; they’re tight, long, vibrant, and full of love. Like you! I want to hug you every day that I’m here so that I have extras in the bank for when I get home and times are tough.

Today, or maybe tomorrow, depending on what one might call the 4 o’clock hour, is your birthday, and I can’t wait to celebrate it with you. Though this whole trip feels like one big celebration already. I’ve brought wine for you and your friends, which I will exchange with you for a good Bordeaux; that way everyone can enjoy something exotic. Shall I make the cake?

I love it here. And I love being with you here. Instead of running away to join the circus, maybe I’ll run away and come here. It will take some convincing with Brian, but in the end I’ll get him to join us. We can work on and stay in your unfinished attic, though I don’t know that the dogs will be able to make it up and down the steeeeep stairs leading up there. Not to mention the fact that you haven’t even invited us to do so! Ha! I will con you as well.

It's fantastic that we’ve hit the ground running as we have. It’s like we’ve known each other forever. I feel very lucky. Now, it’s our job to know each other for the rest of forever. Thankfully, forever is a long time.

XO

Jen

The Last Day

Dear Margaret,

And now, here we are, having just said our goodbyes on the same train platform as we said our hellos the other day. All I can think of is how lucky I am to have found a friend such as you. You have a lifetime of stories, and I’ve relished every one of them you’ve shared, even when I tried to secretly photograph you while you told them. (I failed.) Staying with you has been so comfortable and welcoming, and I cannot thank you enough for taking this misfit in these past few days.

I’m on my own now, and I can’t help but think maybe I will make an effort to travel more like this. Our home life is challenging, and Brian is an absolute saint for encouraging me to go out and soak up life a bit more than I can at home. At home, my life is in my head, stories that bubble up and out of me. But out here, life is vibrant and interesting and downright terrifying; all things that a life should have, at least on occasion. Vibrant and interesting come at a price, don’t they?

French countryside real estate is difficult to avoid considering. I know the stories about those who buy Italian homes for a single Euro; some of them are good, some less so. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say, and it’s such a truth about life. But with some study and encouragement, and maybe a few more years under my belt, maybe we’ll be able to find a way out here or there.

Last night I dreamt of horses, and when I woke up this morning, I had an overwhelming feeling that I should be caring for them again, and maybe even riding them again. Online there are countless stories of horse people who go to slaughterhouses to save abused working horses that the Amish have thrown away (I was surprised by that, too). I love the idea of helping an organization like that. Of course, I don’t live anywhere near the Amish, but cruelty exists in every corner of the world; finding some poor lost souls to help is never difficult.

And just like those lost souls, so was I when you picked me up and dusted me off. On my journey towards… (excitement? history books? heaven?) absolution, you’ve played an integral part of propping me up when things have been the most difficult. I’m so happy to now have a face to go along with the loving, fearless woman I’ve now known for several years. The lightness in your voice as you speak to your fellow countrymen and women in their language has given me the courage to think that I might be able to do the same thing one day. Maybe even today.

Sending much love your way, and until we meet again,

XO

Jen