Interstate Adventures

It was sunny and unseasonably warm for March. Every chair scattered around the Tuileries was taken by someone enjoying a pause in their day. The lucky ones had a view of the Eiffel Tower or cherry blossoms or both. 

It was around 5 pm. I passed through the park into the narrow streets around the Place de la Madeleine. More people filled the outdoor seats at the cafés along the streets. Groups of friends were animated in conversation and many individuals sat alone.

I realized this was the sacred cinq à sept. I have experienced it all over France. In Montpellier it’s a little later in the day. In Nice you will see people sipping rosé in the sunshine. In a gift shop in Epernay, a woman barged through the line and hassled the shopkeeper to hurry up because she wanted to catch up with her friends for a glass of champagne on a terrace outside of one of the grand champagne houses.

When I am at home I hardly notice this shift. I am afraid that if I take the time to stop I might not have the energy to do anything else. This buffer is when I squeeze out whatever is left in me. I still have to figure out what is for dinner and who will be home that night to eat it with me.

In the van, I am free from a house and habits that do not fit anymore. I notice the sun is lower in the sky and the shadows are longer. This is when my husband sets up the campfire and moves the chairs closer. I look around for something for us to sip and snack on. I grab a sweater and hope for a clear view to watch the sun disappear. It feels like the moment between an inhale and an exhale.