Yesterday, I took Connie and Nina to get Cornet Vegetariens from the Sandwich Guy. The line was especially long (blame the chump who ordered eight ham and cheese crepes right in front of us. It was entertaining to watch, but we were getting hungrier by the crepe) and at one point, the Sandwich Guy asked if Connie was my sister.
“Pas ma soeur, une amie,” I tried explaining to him. “Mais une amie comme un soeur.” You know those special relationships that have a dimension and comfort beyond friendship? Connie’s one of them.
She was my first partner in advertising in San Francisco a looooong time ago. While we were working together, she became pregnant with Nina and, ever since Nina was born, I’ve had a special bond with each of them. We stayed in really good touch after I moved to New York and, I’ve loved seeing Nina change from a baby to a toddler; from a little girl to a now beautiful 13-year-old. And I’ve always been so proud of and in awe of Connie, raising her with such grace. Last year, Connie emailed that she and Nina wanted to come to Paris this spring. “Come, come!” I told her.
For the past three days, we’ve been marching around the city, despite winter weather (gloves and winter coats, intermittent rain, and a cruel and vicious hail downpour) and tremendous crowds (Easter Break). We’ve missed dinner reservations, kitchen and park opening hours, and have been thwarted by long lines at museum exhibitions. But, no matter. We’ve still been having fun: catching up, indulging in small pleasures, alternating between pushing ourselves and relaxing and sharing the city.
It’s been a mix of the classics (the Marais, Montmartre, Saint-Germain) and new (Tour Montparnasse, Thai food). But everything has that wonderful level of comfort and ease that comes from being with good friends.
Milo’s been really happy, too.