I’m not sure what it was. A couple of sunny days in a row always helps my mood. Maybe it was the five different people who asked me for directions in both English and French in fifteen minutes – and the fact that I had answers for all of them. Or how happy I was to see my American friends when they got back from spring break, and how much I had missed them – each one specifically and individually for different reasons. When my mom and then friends of my friends visited Paris, I could point out interesting things for them to see. I have a favorite bench on L’Esplanade des Invalides, and I have internet access there. I understand enough French to eavesdrop on conversations. And – this might just be my imagination – but sometimes I can pass people on the street.
For whatever reason, as I rode the escalator out of the Invalides metro station on Sunday afternoon, with a view of the Eiffel tower, the golden dome under which Napoleon is, and my own building, I felt like I was home. I live in Paris.