We arrived in France to rain, and while that didn’t stop us, it was clear that we were slowing down and not in a rush to get into the city. Our attention is beginning to shift to plans for the week ahead. Work, a Lacrosse board meeting, basketball, school work, the upcoming Lacrosse tournament in Seattle this weekend, opening of ski season this Friday (Joel made sure his running start schedule would have no school on Fridays in order to ski, and he plans to ski this Friday with his friends). I have a tendency to shift gears when I can see the proverbial barn, and my attention gets laser focused on the “agenda.” Jill used to challenge me to stay present…that’s hard! There is certainly something normal about transitioning from vacation back into life, however, and we all talked yesterday while walking down a street in Marseille, France, about our favorite part of this journey. It was quickly agreed that we’ll need some time at home to reflect…though the F.C. Barcelona match was murmured by each of us, and we continue to chant “¡Barça! ¡Barça! ¡Barça!” at random moments.
Our taxi driver dropped us off at Vieux Port where we made our way to a small cafe’ for espresso, crepes with Nutella for Joel and Ellanora, while Grayson and I enjoyed pain au chocolate. As the rain became more steady, we pulled out our umbrellas and explored the fresh fish & produce market, before walking through the Christmas market. There were street performers playing stringed instruments, the sound of people buying and selling in French, and the smell of fresh fish mixed with baked breads.
After making some purchases, we took a cab to Notre-Dame de la Garde at the top of the city. The ability to see down into the city from up high has been a highlight in each place we have visited, and this viewpoint can quickly transport you into a fantasy of life in a French town. We did a small amount of exploring, but there was a mass occurring, so we couldn’t do too much inside the church (it was Sunday morning). We entered a part of the church with candles lit, and Joel asked if we could light one for Jill. It was an emotional moment for me, and I’m glad he asked. He placed a candle in an open space and lit it for his mom.
We left the church and walked down steep and narrow roads to an old military tank that was leftover from WWII and now sitting as a memorial (significant portions of Marseille were leveled during the war). We then proceeded through the neighborhood as Ellanora serenaded us with the opening song in Beauty and the Beast (“Bonjour! Bonjour…there goes the baker with his tray like always…”). After lunch, we did some souvenir shopping, then headed back to the ship shortly before our “all aboard” deadline. Dinner was filled with the usual laughter and shadow boxing games between the four of us (it’s a fun, silent game that draws curious stares from Europeans, and has become a staple at the table). After the show, there was an Abba party, and I almost didn’t recognize my daughter! “Dancing Queen,” “Mama Mia,” “Money Money Money,” “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” She loves the show “Mama Mia” so she knew every song…I can’t deny that I, too, was singing loudly when I knew the lyrics while we all danced along. And THAT led into Ellanora swing dancing with me on another dance floor later in the evening. It took all week, but she finally said yes!
This amount of time together has been incredible, and I’m pretty impressed with the kids for their ability to work through their frustrations with each other after 12 days, and still enjoy being together. I can tell that I’m ready for some alone time, as I think we all are. It has felt like a race these months following Jill’s passing, and this trip had unintentionally taken the form of a marker for me as we planned this journey, like the end of some transition with some feelings of trepidation as I look ahead at the steady eb and flow of life without her. Maybe she was right about staying in the present, and as much as I am fighting the silence of the winter ahead, without big plans and busyness, maybe it’s time to re-learn to stay present and quiet.
Learning to Move Through the World 