Rhythms

Life changes do funny things to our brains. Initially, everything is like this great big adventure: new and strange and terribly exciting. But the brilliant excitement gradually wears off, and you find yourself picking up a steady rhythm. Things start feeling normal--getting up each day, eating the same things for breakfast, going to work, hanging out with friends on the weekends. And then suddenly a few months have gone by and the newness of life has become commonplace. Case in point: my life is drastically different from what it used to be, but that's a fact that I have to remind myself of from time-to-time: "Oh yeah, I live in France now. And that's normal. It's not a vacation. I don't live in the U.S. This is 'home.'"

When that realization first started sinking in, it was easy to resist it--the idea of settling in when few things feel comfortable is preposterous. However, rhythms make it easy to push down roots until I find myself getting increasingly attached to this big, noisy city. What was once strange or quaint or potentially a little ugly is starting to look beautiful--not in the way something looks lovely when we glance at it for a few moments--but in the way that family is beautiful. It's something which winds itself around your heart until you find yourself becoming oddly loyal to it, still knowing full well how imperfect and irritating it can be. And I guess that's what this new phase of life is like too. It's beautiful because I'm starting to understand it; I love it because it's becoming mine.

Sadly, this picture isn't mine--but this is really what the city looks like at night. Any wonder I love it?