Very End of December, in Paris

The last of my French Christmas stories is about the very end of my December 2022, in Paris.

Renata’s mama Nani had been in Indonesia with her family for an extended period, during which her father had passed. She wasn’t able to return to France until after Christmas; part of our return-to-Paris program included Antoine meeting her at the airport the week after Christmas.

Nani landed safely in the afternoon, and Antoine asked me to keep Renata so that they could have dinner and enjoy some alone time together. Yes, of course. I was all too willing to do that. Renata and I went grocery shopping, she played with my jewelry, we got very clever with stuff to do. Barbie’s hot pink plane and other toys like puzzles, had all stayed at Marinette’s house.

They arrived back at my apartment and Nani was, of course, overjoyed to see her little girl. She’d shopped a bit in Indonesia (two huge suitcases were brought in) so Renata was thrilled to get a new Frozen (Elsa-Anna) backpack especially. Everyone went to sleep by 8pm.

We had coffee and croissants together the next morning before, sadly, they got ready to leave. How Nani miraculously packed everything back up in those bags was awe-inspiring and, I started missing them before they even left.

In the deafening silence an hour later, I realized that it was the first time that I’d been alone in the quiet, for an entire week. There was, in fact, something quite nice about that, I wrote in my journal.

So very much nicer, was my sweet and gentle reflection that with Nani arriving home safely, each and every one of my Christmas wishes had come true.