Sixty. For nearly a year I told myself often that I was sixty as a way to prepare for the sound of it.
This morning French Husband served champagne.
Martin (Mr. Espresso) and Chelsea brought blush ranunculus amongst other gifts that put me in tears.
My mother called. The best gift she ever gave me was sixty years ago and nothing can compare to that.
Everything was feeling good: Family, friends, healthy, home… and I was content.
Walking distance from our home away from home is the Montparnasse tower, on the top floor there is a restaurant
and that is where my surprise birthday lunch was.
Being there I felt the childhood joy of celebrating birthdays.
The grey skies opened up, sunlight poured through and the blue sky came to set the stage.
With a lovely view of Paris.
Why didn't we ask someone to take our photo so that Yann could have been in on it too?!
This was our view from our table.
Giddy.
Joy.
Sacha called and the day was flawless.
Ten years ago when I turned fifty at my birthday celebration I received a phone call that my father was ill.
I left for Willows that evening and stayed seven months.
The seven months were filled with grief, sadness and letting go. But in life's mystery, there is often a silver lining mine was that I bounded even deeper with my family, especially with my five nieces who at the time were aged 2 to 9 years old. When I said my goodbyes to return to France I promised them that when I turned sixty years old I would invite them to France to help me celebrate.
Over the years we have talked about it, planned, dreamed, grew our hair long, saved money, and at last my dream, their dream is coming true.
They are coming in June.
If God is willing it is going to be a wonderful year of celebrating.
xxxx
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