It’s an overwhelming sense of joy to see family arrive. As much as this has become home, it’s still a foreign land and it’s comforting and fun to see the grandparents after a long absence. So, when I came home from work to find them sitting out back I was naturally overjoyed. And we chatted, caught up, and then let them rest.
While they napped and warded off jet lag, Jom, Carol, Sarah, Jesse, Lucas, Tequila and I made our way down to Bonne Terrasse to find Benjamin and Aurora at the cabanon. (Benjamin and his new wife are the current Coutrots inhabiting the house next door. They’re wonderfully kind; we had them for dinner earlier this week.) Benjamin’s father used to be a shipwright and from him, Benjamin has inherited a passion for sailing. And from some friends who stayed at the cabanon in July, Benjamin inherited a sailboat. And I got to sail it.
It was amazing. I’m not sure why, but I love to sail. I’ve only ever driven myself on tiny sunfish, either on Lake Champlain or the Caribbean Sea, but no matter what I come back from a sail full of excitement. It’s beautiful to be out in the nothingness and eternal beauty of the ocean, filling the graceful sails with playful gusts of wind so powerful your forced to use body’s weight to keep the boat from tipping. And, with Benjamin beside me adjusting the two sails to keep us from hitting rocks or boats or whatever dangers I steered us towards, I felt like king of the world.
And it dawned on me that someone had once predicted that before I left, I would sail.
After my disastrous cake incident, after delicious lunch at the Coutrots, I followed Xavier and his friend from Paris to the crique. I enjoyed this man’s company immensely. While the rest of the group spoke rapid French, he took the time to keep me entertained in English. At the crique that sunny day in June, I confided in him my wishes for the summer:
“I want to speak French.”
“You will. Before you leave, you’ll be nearly fluent.”
I wouldn’t say I’m close to fluent, but I certainly speak well. I work with people who cannot speak a word of English and I serve clients who tip me extra for a beautiful accent and for learning so much in such a short time. I can converse through the thick accent of the natives. I can hold my own.
“I want to work.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
It was for a while, and though much of the summer was spent vacationing, I have worked. I am working. I spent a few nights behind the scenes of some of St. Tropez’s most famous restaurants. I’ve even turned down work.
“I want to leave my mark.”
“Trust me, you’re going to.”
I wanted to make this place as close to home as I could. I have. Tony teases because I seem to know someone everywhere. Even the people at the wine cellar know me. And, though that afternoon I didn’t realize how important to me it would be for me, I grew close with my family. My French cousins know who I am, the kind of person I’ve grown up to be.
“I’d love to go sailing.”
“I promise you, before you leave you will have found some guy to take you sailing.”
And there I was, sailing out on the ocean, passing the crique where I had this same conversation, on a sailboat with a very kind man.
Funny how things work out, huh?
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