Beautiful Day

I realized today how quickly the time has passed since my arrival.
In a way, this all still very surreal; I'm in France, living the dream.
I wouldn't be a human being if I didn't get homesick from time to time, but really, a huge part of me just never wants to go back.
Ten weeks. I have just ten more weeks before I ship out, back to my native land of orange barrels and fast food.

The other day, Vincent, a french friend, asked me why staying for another semester isn't an option.
I told him that the most expensive piece of paper I will ever own will be handed to me in May. This momentous day will soon (hopefully) be followed by another year or two at the grind in Grad school. This all leads up to me eventually breaking away from my sheltered life to join the 9-5 work force and do big people things like actually go grocery shopping regularly, pay taxes and eventually live in a house? On top of this giant identity crisis waiting to happen, there's also the tiny fact worth mentioning that it wasn't my lifetime of hard work that paid for me to come here. It is my father's.

But the French don't think about things like that. "Si tu te sens bien ici, Caitlin" Vincent said to me yesterday. "Tu dois rester." "If you feel good here, you must stay."
There's no rush hour, road rage, hurrying from place to place. You can't even get a coffee to go because it is understood that you have the time to drink it. You walk slowly (really, really slowly), and you make sure to enjoy every flower, every wiff of fresh bread because every single day is a beautiful day. "Caitlin, what are you going to do with this beautiful day?" Madame will often ask me, even when it's raining outside. C'est incroyable.