Preamble in Paris
Leaning my weight against the heavy oak doors that marked the entrance to the hotel, I waded out into summer’s nighttime air, a slight breeze ruffling the thin windbreaker I wore. Standing outside of the hotel under the pleasant moonlit sky, I hoisted my backpack higher onto my shoulders and waited for my uncle to check-in. Letting my eyes adjust to the deepening darkness that engulfed the skyline, the night came alive with hundreds of glowing streetlamps spread out all over the city. The hazy radiance from the lamps brightened up the cityscape, giving welcome to its visitors.
This wasn’t my first trip to this continent full of classic, historical beauty, but I barely remembered the last one. The sparse number of memories that were left behind from the last trip showcased the importance that this trip represented to me. I never really thought about it until then, but the memories you take with you were as precious as droplets of water in the desert. When they were gone, there was nothing you could possibly do to bring them back. And it was in my best interest to make some new ones.
My father always felt that it was a crucial part of any person’s education; to try and understand other cultures and the philosophies contained within their histories. But my eyes often glazed over from the boredom that I felt within, even though I soaked up the information like a savant; the idiot kind. It was all a bunch of facts that I happen to remember, but never felt that they were significant to me. My desires were much more wild and carefree, tied to my restless spirit, the wanderlust within.
Looking around, the urge to run off in either direction and explore tugged at the puppeteer’s strings that bound me to my earthly shell. My impatience prodded me, vehemently wishing to be set free. But I held fast to the knowledge that there were still many days left in this vacation. There was nothing on either continent to hold me back.
“So what do you think?” Lynn asked, sneaking up behind me and putting her arm around my neck.
“What do I think about what? Being here?” I asked offhandedly. I ignored her arm, steadily trying to pull me over with her body-weight. It was something we used to do as kids, rough-housing and wrestling in sibling fashion. We were physical equals then, not so much anymore.
“Yeah, we’re in Paris! Look how beautiful it is, especially at night,” she said excitedly, yanking me even harder to one side.
“Eh, it’s alright I guess. Lights, buildings, and people,” I said dismissively. I continued to stare off into the distance, consciously hoping that something would happen to illustrate and justify my cousin’s excitement.
“I told you that you can’t mope,” she scolded, cuffing me in the shoulder as she did so.
Raising my eyebrow at her, I gave her a look of doubt. “Don’t make me turn you into a pretzel,” I playfully threatened. “I’m more than big enough now to do it. You’ll wake up like this, looking like a retard,” I said, as I showed her a quick demonstration of what she might look like.
“Oh yeah?” she challenged, and she punched me in the arm instead.
Grabbing her arm, I quickly slid up her sleeve and slapped both of my hands on her bare arm. Twisting my hands in opposite directions, I gave her an Indian rugburn.
“Oow!” she yelped, as I grinned and snickered at her momentary pain. I shuffled to the side to avoid a flailing arm and took off, running in a circle.
“You are so dead!” she yelled at me, and started to chase me around. In between the cars we ran, stopping and reversing direction, weaving and ducking through the gaps. I stayed just enough ahead of her to be out of reach, but close enough that she could almost imagine catching me, all the while laughing at her scowl.
“Like you can catch me,” I taunted, catching glimpses of her over my shoulder.
Having not paid much attention to where I was going, I ran into the path of a man and his family coming up to the entrance of the hotel. I spun out of the way and stopped myself by making hard contact with a lamppost.
Lynn rushed over and half-pulled me out of the way, while I rubbed my shoulder that had collided with the post. “We’re so very sorry for getting in your way,” she apologized breathlessly.
“Hey, next time, pay more attention.”
Looking up, I mumbled a quick apology to him and backed out of the way. Trying to catch my breath, I spotted a girl and a boy peering out from behind the man, who I could only assume to be their father. The boy was younger than I was, not more than eight or nine, but the girl was around my age. Her gaze caught my attention and held it with gentle intensity. She regarded me with an air of curiosity, an innocent smile seeking refuge on her lips.
“‘ello.”
