Ambling down the streets of Paris, I noted the oeillade looks between couples and heard promises made that I suspected wouldn’t be honored whatsoever! I am willing to admit that my cynicism may be fueled by recently having survived a torrent of abuse that left me distrustful of treacle, words that trick the heart into believing that the love offered is sacred and real.
I came to Paris to heal, wanting to accumulate good memories to displace the awful ones that disturbed my sleep and turned my days as dark as the raven. Standing here admiring the beauty of the Eiffel Tower, which, to me, embodies strength and perseverance through the storms of life, I want my life to one day mirror those qualities.
I toss the roses in my hand into the Seine, like a wishing well, silently praying for a chance to know real love some day, the kind that doesn’t hurt or seek to destroy. In this beautiful city whose very streets seem to radiate with the promise and power of love, I can already feel my hope returning!