It’s always an adjustment to come home from a long vacation, but I’ve been struggling more than usual after my most recent trip to Paris.
I’m happy to be home: I have a good life in Minnesota, full of friends I love, a home I love, a job I love …
And yet, it broke my heart to leave Paris.
“Why don’t we just move there?” Esteban asked last night. Ah, if only we were 20 years younger—or $2,000,000 richer.
“Because it doesn’t make sense,” I answered. It doesn’t make sense to sell our house in a down market, when we have only six years left on the mortgage. It doesn’t make sense to leave our jobs, our friends, our families …
So I’m determined to get over my existential malaise and get back to my good life in Minnesota.
But I’m already planning my next trip to Paris.
Until then, I at least have many happy memories. Like playing “house-number bingo” on a day when I was feeling photographically uninspired.
I’ll be back with numbers 11 – 20 in a few days. In the meantime, it’s back to my regularly scheduled life—already in progress.