Day/Night One of Trip to Paris

3pm Monday, October 13
Dulles Airport (from my journal)

Here I sit at Dulles Airport, waiting for my flight to Paris. It is finally sinking in that I'm really doing this; I'm really going back to visit a place I have not seen since the early '60s.

I feel like crying. I feel like jumping up and down with excitement. My heart is pounding. On the ride here from Spotsylvania, Gary decided to take Route 3 as an alternate to the highway. By the time we reached the Orange County line, I was in the throes of a serious asthma attack. I thought I was fine emotionally, but my body was reacting to the stress I must have been feeling anyway.

Water and several doses of inhaler later, I was fine and breathing normally again. We took another shortcut (past farms and vineyards), so the drive ended up being much shorter than expected and I was at the airport much earlier than I needed to be. I was dropped at the door and then found myself totally on my own.

Elliott had stayed at a friend's house last night, so he sent me off with big hugs and lots of kisses all over my face.

Got through the check-in/baggage desk quickly, as well as the security check (a piece of cake), so I stopped in at a café to get a bite to eat, relax, and do some reading to pass the time.

Still had an hour-and-half to wait, but I've always said that I'd rather wait than be late, which has happened only once, on a flight to Mexico.

Now I'm at the boarding area and I just got a text message from a new friend of mine, "Imagine the Possibilities!" I have this person to thank for that positive affirmation which I will keep uppermost in my mind on this trip and those I plan on taking in the future.

I love sitting here watching the people and listening to the different languages. Speaking of people watching: I was taking an escalator up to this floor and noticed a young woman chatting on her cell phone. She stepped on the escalator a few steps before me. I also noticed she was wearing a very short skirt. As she walked up the escalator farther away from me, more and more of what was under the skirt was showing. All I can say about that is that I am thankful she chose to wear underwear today.

A young French woman is sitting across from me chatting on the phone. French is one of the world's most beautiful languages. It is silky. Fluid. Playful. Rich.

Another friend just texted me with: "Bon vacance, mon cherie." Going to take a break now to freshen up a bit before the flight.

A little while later: We've been in the air for 20 minutes. I'm all plugged into the stereo system listening to relaxation music. We're already flying over water; the last time I flew over these waters was in 1974, when my mother and my sisters and I traveled to Germany and stayed for the whole month of June. The primary purpose of that trip was to find out whether my mother would be able to donate a kidney to her ailing sister, Inge. (Just realized that one of the stewardesses on this flight looks very much like my friend Silvia—amazing!)

Anyway, in Germany, the medical tests all came back negative and we came home saddened that my mother's wish to help her sister could not be fulfilled.

Thirty-four years since that flight and 44 years since I've been in France. What will it be like to see Paris through adult eyes? My memories of that city and of Etrepy are colored by my youth and inexperience of the time. I still remember the house where we lived and the courtyard behind the house where a magnificent cherry tree grew—I could never get enough of that sweet fruit.

Had some wine with dinner and am feeling considerably more relaxed, albeit a little flushed. The married couple next to me is from South Africa; they were in the area to attend their grandson's marriage in Annapolis.

Going to get a little rest now; the crew asked us to close the window shades, most likely to help stimulate sleep. Maybe we'll be in France when I wake up.