Memories of France
We were away for a bit. When we came back, my dad went into the hospital for over a month, so you so, I've been quiet for a reason. But now that I'm back I thought I would let you know:
What I miss...
I miss the coffee percolator in Paris. I miss its weight, the clunking sound it made when you put its aluminium body together, the coffee in the middle.
We figured out how it worked together, it was obvious to the both of us that we must use it, instead of rushing out and getting coffee at a café each morning. I am grateful that we both took pleasure in it, this way the coffee pot became part of our personal adventure. Our coffee pot.
I miss walking around barefoot on old wood floorboards, some of them coming loose, burnished by years of use to a dark ale colour.
I miss the deep period mouldings that made me feel we were in an old derelict castle.
I miss the way in Aix you don't have to drive anywhere if you don't want to.
I miss the funny book by Jean Loup Chiflet full of cute jokes on language which appeared by magic just as I was having a hard time sleeping.
I miss the ethereal peach glow, come straight from a dream as you walk the streets of Aix after evening coffee.
I miss the pizza at Capri pizza that we used to go get late at night and waited for with a bunch of students on the street corner because there's no place to sit down.
I miss so much more than I thought I would. And I am very grateful for that.