I am lucky, the self-conscious girl declared

Sometimes I worry that I sound like a real asshole on this here blog. That people think I just flit about, rhapsodizing about pastries, skipping around as if all that mattered was my opinion about Parisian architecture and foreign travels. I know I do flit and skip and go on a bit too much about pastries, but I do it, knowing how lucky I am. How very, very privileged and fortunate I am to be living in Paris, working on Louis Vuitton, traveling to foreign countries, and that I have the freedom to do so much of this on a whim, and, most important, the support and encouragement back home, egging me on. Trust me, I think about it all the time.

I had one of these moments at Verdura, where I was walking along a lit path at night, on my way to dinner, under the moon. I started thinking about how this was a resort that neither of my parents would probably ever visit. That I was in a pocket of the world that not many people get to see. Indeed, just what was I doing, walking along this beautiful path in Sicily, of all places? How did I get there? Not literally, but it was a moment of feeling so present, and so aware and grateful for it.

And the best part was that this moment wasn’t tinged with sadness because I had no one to share it with. I’m in a phase where I’m content being single. As thrilled as I would be to find that notch for my nook, I am used to being on my own. I realize that seeing things with only my eyes doesn’t make them any less lovely.