Je T'embrasse

It's been three years since I lived in New York, four months since I was last in Paris, and I've attempted to write this post too many times in the past two weeks. Lately, that cliché that distance makes the heart grow fonder has been unoriginally true in my missing home. This has been emphasized by the realization that in some cases it's through the physically "being there" that support and strength is most felt.
This past summer, I spent our last hour in Paris lying in bed with a migraine, dozing off between glimpses of sparrows in the courtyard. Though unwell, I was secure, calm. And then I almost made me and Rachael miss our train back to London because I needed more photos and a pain aux raisins for the following morning. The truth is I hadn't wanted to leave; not when (where) everything made sense again.