Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Cowboy Bob
Paris
Two years after I mentioned Paris to my new love, Miss Gail, we arrived. Airports are the same all over the world and even though I was anxious to feel the romance we needed to drudge through Immigration and baggage until we settled into the cab for a ride into the city.
I had been to Paris twice, once about 50 years ago and again about 20 years ago and I count myself very lucky that I was back. I worried that what I remembered of a beautiful city built around a river full of sounds and smells like nowhere else in the world really was just something I imagined and maybe was just a figment of my romanticism. Miss Gail, the experienced world traveler, sat beside me, soon to be my wife, she gently slid her small hand into mine and squeezed, gave me a smile, and winked.
A small hotel, off Rue Bonaparte in the Latin Quarter was perfect, very French, with about 15 rooms on five floors, with a suspicious elevator. It had subtle colors, mostly white, fresh flowers in the vases, hint of perfume, and the quiet soft voices, “Bonjour Mr. Mitchell and Madame, welcome and welcome to Paris.” I breathed out and my soul sang, I am back, to a place I love, this time with my lover.
Paris is for lovers, and I quickly fell back into my familiarity with this City, anxious that Miss Gail see and feel all the deliciousness that I felt. We walked hand in hand to the café on the corner and worked our way to a small table, the waiter giving us a French menu, then took a second look and said, “Ingles?” and I nodded. Tables sat right next to each other, uniformed waiters bounced around, and soon two white fluffy croissants and a dark coffee American appeared on our table. Loud jovial conversations that we could not understand filled my senses with familiarity. We talked, heads close together knees touching, and the aura of love wrapped around us, yes, this is Paris. We walked back to our hotel, rode a strange elevator up to our floor, and we kissed.
The next morning, we walked in the rain to the Ille de Cite, an island in the Seine where the city of Paris started, the island is home to the Notre Dame Cathedral and my favorite place, the rose flower market. We exchanged poetry in this beautiful place, spoke of love and with vows we sealed our marriage.
Grab my hand, my soul, Miss Gail, let’s adventure together Laughing and skipping, together our hearts Toward those two paths in the woods, Of course, we must take the path less taken- Let’s go green eyes! — Your Cowboy
Our adventures continue!
Meet Cowboy Bob at our book signing on December 8, 6–8. Potter Winery, 5286, W. Chinden, Garden City, Idaho, Murder in the Parsonage and Loving Again will both be available.
