Crossing the threshold from Willows California to France (back in 1988) was not easy. Even though I was in love, and starting the journey of married life with a Frenchman, leaving my big loving family and friends, was not taken lightly, my heart ached in the middle of its joy.
France and I were not instant friends, we didn't just click. No, ours was a slow steady coming together. On those days were France seemed unbearable, cold and hard, on those days where I struggled with the culture, the language, the lack of a cup-of-tea friend! On those days were the different rules and customs bugged me, grating against my independent being, it seemed some sacred spirit would come and stand by me. In the midst of those blue days something would tug at my sleeve, as if to say, "Here, look here!" The heart on my sleeve would be mended, a smile would blink away the tears, and I would hold on a little tighter to the country I was coming to know as home.
Sure, I missed my family in Willows, I always will. Time does not change certain things. France is my home, my day to day life. The differences between the two countries and myself I hardly see any more. France has become my friend, I don't focus on what I have lost, instead I look at what I have gained.
I have a foot in both countries now, and a heart full of love.
But oh the price… Goodbyes are never easy.
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