I am utterly exhausted.
For you, the one or three or seven of you that may read this, my apologies. I have no philosophy to share. No wise words of learning or life lessons. I am consumed by packing up this chapter of my life while, at the same time, baking something for tomorrow’s CM2 class breakfast. It is the perfect message to me that while I may want time to stop for me and my “moment”, it will not and does not. Friends, here, are making their plans for next week and next month and next year. Plans that I am no longer a part of (but they have said I am welcome to return at anytime, flights being so inexpensive). And, at the same time, I am beginning to make plans with friends when I return. An amount of time that can now be counted in hours.
I strongly believe my exhaustion and busy-ness is God’s way of keeping me distracted from the emotional aspect of change. I literally don’t have the time or the energy to spend these last few days reflecting on the whirlwind of this all. I believe it’s a bit of self preservation on my part, too. The good-byes with friends tomorrow will be hard enough. For tonight, I just needed to pack!
It was a good day, though. My final Thursday with my friends. We actually had two additions this morning: Sarah and Lydia’s daughter, Emma. They did not have to be at school until 12:45 today so joined us at our favorite bakery and then went to a favorite area for strolling and window-shopping. They left us just before lunch. It was one of the only days we had not made lunch reservations and ended up at an organic burger cafe in the 1st, near the Opera. It was just what we were looking for: delicious burgers, hot, very crispy fries, cold water, chocolate cake for dessert and an upstairs table for final laughs and stories. It took everything I had to stay awake on the Metro back to school and they could see it. I felt like a slug walking home from school and told the kids I just needed to put my head on for a few minutes before I rallied for my evening of packing. I put my head down around 4:20 and said, “You have to wake me up at 5:15”. They did, but very gently. So sweet. Sarah, my life-saver, took charge of making homemade pizza for dinner which was delicious. They turned on Ratatouille as some Disney/French entertainment and we are now close to being ready to leave on Saturday morning.
And although I am ready to fall into bed, I had to turn to this blog. It’s hard to capture for you how I have enjoyed sharing my stories…some important, some not, but all the story of my life this year. This blog was never meant to entertain or educate but, more selfishly, created so I wouldn’t have to repeat myself! In the end, I have something for myself I can always turn to when I think about this slice of my life.
I thought I would share with you an excerpt from a talk that Sarah Kay gave a couple years ago. She sums up, so well, the joy of sharing stories:
“I have always liked coming home and sharing what has happened that day with my loved ones. I like comparing notes. I know other people do, too. I think there is a human instinct to tell stories, no matter who you are or where you live. When I hear other people’s stories, I like to believe that they contribute to my “Encyclopedia of Human Experience.” The stories I hear help me expand my definition of what love is, what pain feels like, what sacrifice means, what laughter can do. I hear a story and learn from it: I agree, or disagree, or build on it, or expand it, or find some kernel of truth inside of it for myself, that lets me know somebody else is also trying to tackle the same confusing questions that I am. To me, having the courage to tell your own story goes hand in hand with having the curiosity and humility to listen to others’ stories.”
I don’t know what my next story will be. But, let’s keep sharing our stories, okay?