French Vanilla

It may seem cliche, but I want to go to Paris.

Just to walk down the streets, carrying a tall cup of French Vanilla coffee from the nearest Starbucks. Yes, I know I said "French Vanilla" not to make a quick pun or anything referring to the french, but I really do like French Vanilla. It's my absolute favourite.

I'd have my thick black wool trench coat on, along with a flowy scarf wrapped around my neck, the ends hanging loosely behind me as the wind comes upon me.

While walking past that stone building with black swirly railings and small balconies next to each other, I'd take a sip from my warm and tall cup of what tasted like heaven in my mouth.

Loose strands of my dark brown hair would fly around my face, some falling on my flushed cheeks. Grinning, I tuck some strands behind my ear and a couple back into the almost fallen messy bun. As I do that, I stop walking at the end of the sidewalk.

Standing still, next to a tall black lamp post, I slowly look up at the wonder in front of me. Eyes, glistening with excitement and awe. My cupid's bow lips curving in, forming two small dimples on my face. In other words, I am absolutely wonderstruck.

La dame de fer, standing 1,063 ft tall on the Champ de Mars was right in front of me. The puddle iron lattice tower, built 122 years prior reflected my eyes.

The most prominent symbol for Paris and France, named after it's designer: Gustave Eiffel, it filled my thoughts.

Yes readers... I'm talking about The Eiffel Tower.

I stood there for a while examining it. How I would only see it in pictures, it's silhouette against the refulgent sunrise from the Trocadero. Beautiful, even in the photos. But seeing it in real life for the first time is really quite magical. Even feels magical.
For a moment, just a small moment, I felt little sparks.

It's really beautiful. I admired the architecture; the triangles, curves, and arches.

A striking piece of structural art, I thought.

When I took my eyes off of the tower, an old couple was walking down the path underneath the arch of the Eiffel, smiling and holding hands. Their white and grayed hairs close together, the woman rested her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her, holding her close like she was the only woman in the world.

A wind blew the man's hat off his head, falling to the ground. The woman gasped and the man only just smiled, turning around and bent down to pick it up.

He picked it up and twirled it upside down, bowing to the woman, making her giggle. She then curtsied and closed her eyes preparing to dance.
The man took her hands gently, surrounding her in his arms and dancing lovingly on the path.

Another wind blew by, this time making the brown, red, orange and yellow leaves sway close to the ground, following the couple's feet. The branches of the leafless trees also seemed to sway back and forth, dancing along with the couple. The sky shone brightly, a wave of colours: pink, blue, orange swirled behind the clouds. It was a perfect mise en scene.

I threw out my empty Starbucks cup into the trash bin. Putting my hands in my coat pockets, I started walking down that path, passing the lovely old couple. I could tell that they were deeply in love. The way they would stare into each other's eyes, like they were the only two people in the world, having no worries or cares about anything at all. Just living for the moment.

I smiled at that thought. I hope to have that someday.

Maybe I'll grow old and come back to Paris again when that happens, at this spot, with the love of my life, and his arms wrapped around me. Only God knows.

I sat down on a nearby bench, leaning back comfortably, with my right foot tucked behind my left and my hands on my lap, looking at the brilliant sky. Admiring the glowing sunset, I am thankful.

I closed my eyes, balancing out the many thoughts that entered my head and only thought of one special thought.

Thank you God for bringing me here.

When I opened my eyes, the stunning Paris view was gone. Instead, what took its place was four large windows, drapes hanging from it, and a radiantly glowing full moon outside. I was back home.

I sighed and rested my cheek on my hand.

Lost in thought, I thought.

I grabbed the blanket and a small white pillow, cuddled on the couch, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I had left the hot mug of French Vanilla Coffee on the side table. For the morning.
Along with my reveries.