Magic Smiles

I was going to write a post today about my new home, the location, the people, etc. Then I had a "Stupid French Day" that I was going to write about, complete from the point where I thought I was going to be murdered, to finally making it home and breaking down in tears because somewhere along this stupid French day, the charm broke off my new favorite necklace that I picked up in Aix at a little craft/brocante/antique place, and now I can't find it anywhere.

Somewhere in the tears and frustration, my mind decided it needed chocolate in order to cope, or we just weren't going to be able to handle all of this any more. I gave in and blindly stumbled out of the apartment as it was getting dark in my quest for instant gratification and mood

enhancement drug of choice.

This wasn't the familiar, family oriented arrondisment where you couldn't walk a block without seeing a Carrefour, Fanprix, Lidl, or any other market chain where they sell everything for prices akin to American grocery stores, but everything looks cheaper because it's in euros. This arrondisment is old, and full of students and older folks, not many families to be seen. It has boulangerie after boucherie after vegetable market, but no such thing as a grocery. I guess they have something against those establishments whose names don't end with the requisite "ie".

Finally, I saw a metro station, and descended into the city to buy the Navigo Pass that would help prevent my having another stupid French day. The employee behind the ticket counter

smiled at me. Just smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back even though my world was falling apart and I still had no chocolate, and I was about to spend more money on this stupid pass. Still, that smile made everything look brighter, and once I had my pass in possession, I climbed what I thought was the entrance I had used to get down into the metro.

A grocery. Someone had put a place where they had chocolate at not exorbitant prices, right outside the metro for me. Never mind that I ended up quite a ways away from where I actually wanted to be, there was a sort of mea culpa from Paris, apologizing for the stupid French day. "Yeah, we didn't actually mean that. It was just sorta a test to see how much you really loved me. Here's some chocolate to make up for it."

Chocolate in hand, I started back what I thought was they way home. I ended up walking in the wrong direction, could have carried on that way for ages too, but the very nice old man who was walking his dog very slowly stopped in front of me to give his canine friend a pat. That's when I looked up at the street sign and saw my mistake. I even knew how to correct it. The old man and his dog smiled at me and I smiled back and altered my course.

A light misty rain began to fall and in the dark if I ignored all the French signs and made the voices a hum, it took me back to some of my favorite childhood memories. Going to the ballet with my parents when I must have only been four or five, skipping along in my new dress and asking if they thought the people around us thought that I could be playing Clara in the Nutcracker. That magical night when I saw my first opera, Rigoletto, with my dad and how the wet pavement outside seemed to take on an entirely different look, it sparkled. As I saw the smiling parents and children skipping along the damp streets, it was no longer misting rain, it was sprinkling happy memories.

First Night before every new year with my best friend and our two families, and the snow never stuck but melted on contact with the concrete downtown. Halloweens with friends when it was really too cold and wet to go trick or treating, but we all went anyway and then sipped hot apple cider with cinnamon and had chili when we got back home. Those nights when we went to meet Daddy for dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant downtown near his office. Going to the ballet, the opera, a musical, with friends and family.

I felt like that child again as I walked through the glittering streets. It was cold enough for everyone to be wrapped in jackets and scarves and hats, but not bitterly so. It erased the stupid French day from my mind, and proved to me once more that everything is better with a magic smile.