Giddy. Like a six-year-old on Christmas Eve. I’m pretty positive I won’t be able to sleep well tonight. I’m pretty positive I won’t even turn off my light until way past my usual bedtime because I’ve got so much to do. As is my habit, I’ve left the packing, the deciding, the last minute preparations to, well, to the last minute.
Are you sitting down? I can barely sit still. Guess what’s about to happen?
In just under 18 hours, if all goes well, my daughters, my mother and I will be on a plane heading to Paris. Yes, Paris!
My 19 and 21 year old girls have never been. My mother knows the city like the back of her hand. She was with my children the first time they visited New York City when they were 5 and 7. We still talk about that trip. And I am beyond excited that my now 82 year-old mom will be part of this adventure also.
We have big plans but not firm schedules. Five museums, an afternoon wandering in the Marais, a nighttime trip up the Eiffel Tower, a drink at Le Meurice, mass at Notre Dame., dinners in bistros, a walk along the Seine. Visits with family and friends.
Giddy. Three generations. My three favorite women. A week in Paris. You’ll have to forgive me.