Change

This morning I went over to my dually-stacked fuchsia-colored Target Tupperware tubs and pulled off the mauve sweater, black tee with a ruffle at the neckline and ill-fitting leggings that have found a home there for the last four days. On Monday I carefully chose this ensemble, as my fresh start to the week welcomed fresh attire. Yet as the week has worn on, and the humidity seems to amplify my sciatic pain, combined with a larger hurt that comes from memories of recently being home, I find myself unable to start anew each day. Although my days are filled with a number of activities and no down time, there is still that lack of a routine and constant change; which in turn means that I rarely see the same person twice a week, leading to my lack of change.

As I sit here on the metro, unable to stop staring at the lady across from me donning the seasonally inappropriate open-toed high-heels with revolting unpolished toes, inhaling a yogurt, with interspersed swigs of a Coke, I can't help but compare her to me. Although I would like to think my grey Chuck Taylor's are a little less of a turn-off, the overarching issue still remains the same. She is racing around, a sore thumb in her surroundings. She is out of place and in a hurry--- two feelings that encompass my day to day life here in Paris.

Yet I still struggle with how to make that ultimate change to really feel like Paris is my home. As a year has passed since I moved here, I have grown in so many ways. But in so many ways I am still sporting open-toed shoes in the dead of winter. I am inhaling my dinner at metro stops and staring at people with wide-eyes when spoken to in French. I am on over-drive but driving no where.

On Friday we go to the prefecture and collect our long-awaited carte des sejours, which will solidify my work status in France. Yet, as the character of Nelson Mandela so eloquently put in Invictus, “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul,” so to am I in charge of my destiny. As another year has begun here in Paris, it is time to lose the mauve sweater and mix it up. The change will only come when I am ready, and I believe that time has come.

The long walk to the RER A in Opera