Une Vie Plus Simple

My plane leaves Paris for the States on the 14th.

I am making yet another impromptu trip to spend as much time as possible with Herve.
I'll only be back in Paris the night before I leave, which means these (until Wednesday) are my last days in Paris.

I'm sort of dazed and confused, and about 80% in denial.

I was in Bretagne for the last few days, the jagged rocks of the wild atlantic coast. It was cloudy most of the time, but that didn't bother me. A wild smokey ocean is what maybe I like most of all. And the food, oh the food...I think between Bretagne and the Alps I've put on at least 4 kilos (8ish pounds). GUH.

Spent three blissful days in the Alps with Herve, his brother Norbert and his brother's girlfriend Aurelie. We also had dinner a couple of times with his Aunt and Uncle and their daughter, Virginie who has a tiny baby girl named Noami. Took adorable pictures of us all frolicking in the mountains.

Herve tried to teach me how to play the guitar and I tried to teach him a little bit of the piano. We made up little songs.

Went apricot picking with Aurelie while Herve and his brother and their dad worked on mounting the giant bay window in Herve's new house. We got chased away by wasps but pretended not to be afraid.

One morning during breakfast I saw Herve's father outside picking wildflowers which grow on the grassy hill outside of their home. Brilliant gold and pink. Later I saw these same flowers in a vase on the mantle in the living room, beside the collection of photographs of Herve's mother, who passed away four years ago. Herve told me that every evening on his way home from work his father visits his mother's grave. I looked at those flowers and I looked at this man in front of me with sincere gentle eyes and I looked out the window behind him over the hills to the village in the distance with its gray stone church tower towering above the houses with their red slate rooves. I started to cry and though all I could do was apologize he took me into his arms and sat with me on the couch until after some time we both fell asleep.

When did life become so complicated? When did we lose our hold on the simple integrity of our own sentiments? Why do we apologize when we cry? Why isn't there always someone there to take us into their arms?