Last night I was in my bed trying to fall asleep, and I was looking out of my window. You can see the spot light from the Tour Eiffel pass through the sky every so often. I was looking out from my bed, waiting to see pass by every time, and then I had this jolting realization that I'm in Paris.
It's not like this was the first time I understood that I wasn't in MA or at Stonehill, even though that would be funnier--it was the first time I'd actually completely relaxed here, enough to just lose myself for a second and then comeback and think "How did I end up here?"
I thought about that last night, and I decided it all began with 7th grade...maybe even 6th grade when I was...eleven or so? Everyone from good old Norwell remembers picking out what language we wanted to study in middle school. Well, I chose French, not because I had big dreams of moving to Paris and teaching English, but because everyone said it was easiest and I was terrified of even speaking English in class. French, being "easy" seemed like the best route for my self conscious, preteen self.
What makes my day is that what started as my being self conscious and terrified of learning another language has turned into something completely different. I'd like to think that if my 6th grade self hadn't been shy, I never would have ended up being brave enough to just take off to Paris.
I think that everything happens for a reason, but that's just being optimistic most of the time, except for right now. No matter what stage you're in in your life, that's the way it should be...being shy will teach you to appreciate confidence. Being afraid will make you even more proud of yourself when you are brave...maybe it will take 8 or so years so really work out, but it happens.
So I'm here, living in Paris, and already trying to make plans to come back. Thank you, little Erica.