As I walked home, now in the pouring rain, I stopped in my tracks to look around for the boulangerie that just had to be right in front of me.  No patisserie or boulangerie in sight, I said aloud to the empty street, “the air smells like butter”.  I shook my head and took up my walk again, thinking, “oh Paris, you are a wonder.” 

All of the women in my family are makers.  In the seventies, my mother whipped up gauze-y caftans while my little sister and I made troll clothes out of the fabric scraps scattered about the floor.  We hand stitched purses and pillows.  We strung tiny seed beads into necklaces. To this day, I’m happiest in my studio, channeling the women who came before me and remembering those summer days at my mother’s feet chattering nonstop with her and my sis.

After a much anticipated trip to Paris in April 2022, I realized, at the age of 59, that I am happiest in Paris. Haha! I mean, who wouldn’t be? Everything is just better in Paris. I was more creative in Paris than I’d been in ages. I loved wandering the Paris arrondissements and really exploring them with an intense focus. I was giddy. So happy and in my element. Oh, Paris.