I'm getting all wistful now. It's been a month that I've been in the US. In fact, this is the longest chunk of time I've spent in my birth-country since I moved to France. I'm a bit stunned. I arrived in full French mode -- my speech, my way of dress, my way of eating, my conversation topics, my energy. And now, a month later, I'm feeling ever more American and present to the world here.
I was seeing through a filter, my French life taints my American views. For good or ill, little was without meaning or resonance. All became nuanced, observable, catalogable. I noticed how young women dressed here (tight jeans, t-shirts, flip-flops). I noticed colors, hair styles, demeanor -- oh but everyone is friendly and kind. Hard workers at the Mac Store and for the environment. Devoted and excited new business owners. Attentive parents accompanying their children to tennis camps, on boat rides, to brunch at the local diner.
I've met a woman who's just beginning to explore the world of goat cheese -- and I think, wow, I could really help her a lot, and why don't I just ask my goat cheese making friends in Provence to let me intern with them this year? Wouldn't it be awesome to have that skill and be able to translate it back to this growing and culturally dynamic little corner of Michigan? Hmmm new projects, new possibilities, and why not?
I'm happy to go back to Provence, but for once, life in this country once mine is again conceivable, imaginable. My boys are certainly doing great here, and I don't plan on ever severing our French contacts, but, what would it be like to take the leap and try living her for a year? or more?
We take the plane Monday afternoon. This is our last weekend, and they announce great weather. It's a time to enjoy, revel in the moment, and then, pack up for our other life.