Thursday, February 21, 2013

I hadn't planned for today.

The hiccup in my throat, tightness in my chest.

The tears just start to fall.

In my little room, all windows, no privacy. I couldn't hold the tears at bay, not this time.
This need that bubbles up inside me.
Oh, how I wish it would just go away.

But you remind of my need almost every day, with your invasion into my space.
No Privacy here.

And it hurts.
The pain you bring.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Paper airplanes.

A heavy layer of snow blanketed all of Paris. The city was so quiet. After coming back to the hotel early, I opened the window and sat there watching the snow fall.

Up on the 9th floor, I could see so many rooftops. Little white peaks, steaming.

The news said it was the worst snow storm in decades. It must have been, for the city was virtually shut down...and the snow made it deathly quiet as well.

It was decadently peaceful.

In a couple hours I would need to dress for supper with my father. We were meeting friends of his at Maxim's.

As the sun began to set, a little light clicked on in the guard's booth below. I'd noticed him the other day as we'd left for the countryside. Our driver had been briefly chatting him up while we were waiting to leave. They must be friends, I thought.

He must be freezing in that little booth, and bored.

I don't know what made me think of it, or why I did it, but afterwards I'd had such a wonderful time, that my smile lasted thru dinner. The first paper airplane I'd made dived straight for the ground. The next three or four though floated so gracefully. By then, I knew I was determined to get at least one of my airplanes to soar past the guard's booth. My hope that he would see it.

I spent the next two hours using up every scrap of paper I could find in my hotel room. I'm fairly certain I stopped short of using pages from the bible....but I remember being sorely tempted.

By the time my father came to fetch me for supper, there must have been over a hundred paper airplanes littered on various neighbouring rooftops, the nearby hotel grounds and one lonely paper airplane on the roof of the guard's booth.

For a brief moment I was petrified that if my father saw them, I'd be spending the next three hours cleaning up paper airplanes. I quickly guided him out of my hotel room, mumbling something about being starved.

No one ever mentioned my paper airplanes.
The next morning while we waiting for our car to leave for the south of France I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a little paper airplane sticking out of the valet's keybox.

Just laying there....and I smiled.