Last Sunday

So today is our last Sunday in our apartment. Tomorrow will be our last Monday.

I’m glad I’m not leaving Paris, because if I had to leave now, just when that bitch was finally opening up, it would be depressing. I would have blue balls.

I know I’m lucky to live here, but I never aspired to and I can’t appreciate it the way people who love Paris or France would. I gave up a lot to come here. I was independently not-wealthy, had a job I could almost never be fired from which I enjoyed (sometimes). I finally had the perfect downtown apartment that was cheap and shitty enough that the landlord didn’t care what I did or didn’t do to the place (David put a swimming pool in the back room to cheer me up after my hair got butchered at a salon because I missed having a bathtub).

blah blah blah  I was happy. Or happy-ish. I connected with David because he was stuck in a strange land, and I was stuck in a cool house out of downtown that made me feel like I was in butt-fucked egypt. He thought I was funny. We had fun together. I never imagined that I would end up following him back to France like a puppy.

I’m crawling out of my skin to be done with this place, but at the same time, this is eventually the place I called home instead of saying, “I’m going back to The Apartment”.

The first time it felt like home was when I had to leave to go to San Francisco a few days after we were married. Our boat shipment had finally arrived after two months, and we had a couch, my books, my clothes. I felt sad to leave my new husband, as weird as being married felt. As fucked up as it was being in a country where I didn’t speak the language and all of a sudden being very dependent on a man, this was my life. Immigration requirements meant San Francisco by myself was my honeymoon. (Where I lost my wallet which for some reason had all the wedding cash in it because we didn’t want presents, and my wedding ring… guess which one I got back….the stupid fucking cash.) I was so lost I was losing things. Not just keys or make-up or cell phones. Things that tied me to the place and to the man I just married.

It wasn’t that I never thought I would get married or have kids. I just imagined that if it happened it would be the same way it happened for my older sisters. Years of dating, moving in together. Waiting for a ring. We did it all backwards.

What a long strange trip it’s been.

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2 Responses to “Last Sunday”

  1. paw Says:

    Backwards is sometimes forward in a different direction. Glad you are enjoying the ride! Miss you much but liking your adventures! Kiss maza. MJ says woof! And Mako says watz up(so ghetto). Xoxo, paulie

  2. eMerly Says:

    I miss you guys too. I still regret not getting a canvas so I could have some Mako Ghetto Style art on the bedroom wall. It was just empty and white the whole time we lived there.

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