There is something inherently romantic about waiting for your lover at a street café in Paris. Maybe it’s just a Hollywood fantasy that has been etched in our minds or maybe it’s the allure that the City of Lights holds in our subconscious. Sara and I had planned to meet in Paris, it was supposed to be a simple rendezvous that unexpectedly crescendoed into a moment that will be relived until we are both old and grey.
The cold air was damp and the mist steady. A foggy evening is Paris could be romantic if you have someone to keep you warm but I was feeling quite cold and spent most of the evening anxiously awaiting Sara’s arrival. Despite being exhausted I awoke early to find birds singing and that sun had burned through the clouds. I ventured towards the market with the intention of grabbing some petit déjeuner and some caffeine. There was a florist at the market, who’s appearance and demeanor reminded me of overly joyful Disney character. Without a conscious thought, long forgotten French words flowed from my mouth as if they had been rehearsed a thousand times over. A moment and euro later, with freshly cut rose in hand, it dawned on me that it was about to be an extraordinary day.
I made my way to the designated meeting place, found the perfect table, and ordered a coffee. I must have been nervous because I don’t even like coffee. The waiter promptly brought an extra black café with croissant and then out of no where I found myself in a movie fantasy that high-school girls dream about. I’m alone, awaiting my lover in the City of Lights, sipping on a café with a single red rose. How did this happen?
Don’t get me wrong, I can be romantic when required but this seemed over the top. The café must have been extra caffeinated that morning and I nervously counted as my watch marked the seconds, minutes, and hours. People went about their business as a new garçon started his shift. One hour, two hours, three hours passed. I stood up several times to get a better view and then would quietly sit down growing more and more uneasy. Did her flight get delayed? Did she make it through customs? Is she even in the same country or on the same continent? “Un autre café s’il vous plaît.” I said to my new waiter.
For a brief moment I put my head down and then glanced up. There she was, standing directly in front of me with tears streaming down her face. We’ve spent plenty of time apart over the years but never has it been so long or so far. There is something inexplicably special about seeing your best friend, your partner, your lover, again for the first time. Together we shared four weeks exploring France, Ireland, Portugal, Spain, and Morocco before parting ways. Being apart makes you remember how much you love each other and how much you need each other. This adventure has been a test that is impossible to prepare for and yet as the days count down it becomes more evident that it would have been impossible without Sara standing by my side thousands of miles away.
