Here we are in our final week of our séjour en France. I must have blinked.
Seriously, it did go fast. I knew it would. And while there are things I will miss - like friends and bread and cheese and walks by the river, and did I mention the cheese… I am also feeling ready to get home. Living with our family spread across more than 4,000 miles is not ideal.
Just like at home, we are only one block from the river. This one is pretty good size. The days when I'm out exploring, the evenings when I'm curled up with a book, the water rolls on by. The little river at home is running right now, even while I'm so far away. And this big river will continue on its path long after I've landed back in Boston. It's obvious, I know, and yet there's something about that continuity. Time continues on just like the river.
Being that this is our last week, I notice myself trying to squeeze in all the things. One more trip to the botanical garden, one more coffee at an outdoor café, one more trip to the bookstore, one more walk through the hills around Lyon and one more croissant (maybe two).
I notice myself wanting to soak in something of this French aesthetic that includes consciously saying hello, getting outside in all weather, taking time to appreciate delicious food and almost-spring air.
I am also wanting to hold onto a bit of the rhythm I have found here - of daily meditation and yoga, running and long walks along the river, playing cards and laughing with my teen. I have put down a lot of “shoulds” that show up when I am at home. What would it be like not to pick all those up again when I get back?
Mostly, I want to hold onto the gratitude I have:
Seriously, it did go fast. I knew it would. And while there are things I will miss - like friends and bread and cheese and walks by the river, and did I mention the cheese… I am also feeling ready to get home. Living with our family spread across more than 4,000 miles is not ideal.
Just like at home, we are only one block from the river. This one is pretty good size. The days when I'm out exploring, the evenings when I'm curled up with a book, the water rolls on by. The little river at home is running right now, even while I'm so far away. And this big river will continue on its path long after I've landed back in Boston. It's obvious, I know, and yet there's something about that continuity. Time continues on just like the river.
Being that this is our last week, I notice myself trying to squeeze in all the things. One more trip to the botanical garden, one more coffee at an outdoor café, one more trip to the bookstore, one more walk through the hills around Lyon and one more croissant (maybe two).
I notice myself wanting to soak in something of this French aesthetic that includes consciously saying hello, getting outside in all weather, taking time to appreciate delicious food and almost-spring air.
I am also wanting to hold onto a bit of the rhythm I have found here - of daily meditation and yoga, running and long walks along the river, playing cards and laughing with my teen. I have put down a lot of “shoulds” that show up when I am at home. What would it be like not to pick all those up again when I get back?
Mostly, I want to hold onto the gratitude I have:
| - for making this trip happen when it looked like all was falling apart in December, - for the flexibility my work gives me to disappear for six weeks, - for a family willing to think outside the box, - and for being here right now, in this 450 sq ft. apartment with the sun slanting in the tall windows and sounds filtering in from outside. |
I am a block away from the river. And the water it continues on.
What is your relationship with time? What do you notice about time passing in this moment?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional life coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
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