Another Epiphany not worth reading

I want to the bar last night with the girls. They weren’t thrilled, mostly because there weren’t a lot of kids there their age. I took them home and returned to try and have some fun myself.

Wrong.

I don’t know why, but Le P’tit Club is quickly losing its charm. It’s still wonderful to see Stephen and Bruno (the two bouncers and two of my dearest friends), and it’s always interesting to see Jerome (the bartender/owner who has a permanent scowl) and Dennis (who really just doesn’t do a damn thing for me anymore), but it’s just not as much fun. I don’t leave with cheeks sore from smiling so much. I don’t go flirting about, strutting my stuff, seeing how much French I can speak in one night. I think this coming and going of friends is starting to get to me.

It’s like a tide, the constant ebb and flow of arrivals and departures, greetings of strangers and goodbyes of friends. My dog is my only consistent friend. I have friends all over the world now, but no one is here. And the P’tit Club seems to remind me of that.

I spent a wonderful week with four Dutch students on holiday. I know I have mentioned them in the past, but as we continue to exchange email, as I continue to glance at the campground searching for their long-gone tent, as I continue to check for their presence at the bar, I realize how much I enjoyed their company. The four of them were wonderful people, lots of fun and genuinely interested in spending time with me. And I was overjoyed to spend time with them. If I ever had the desire to go to Holland, I’d search endlessly for them.

I hear from my friends at home and melt. I do miss them. I do miss home, in a way. Maybe that’s it, maybe these past few days – rain and all – I’ve been a little homesick. There’s only one way to fix that:

I just turned to Tequila and said, “Let’s go have us an adventure.”