Far from my sight, out of my heart

I learned a new French expression. Loin de mes yeux, loin de mon cœur. It means, far from my sight, out of my heart. I thought, given my situation, it was very interesting. It was used to express how we need to keep up with those we love, otherwise we will lose them in time. If we don't work at our relationships, distance and absence will cause them to fade.

Since I heard it, I've been applying this in all sorts of ways. Good and sad. I can't see my family or close friends regularly, so I need to keep in contact with them in other ways so that I will not lose being close in their hearts or they in mine.

On the flip side, if I hang in there, sugar and sweets will finally leave my heart and I will not long for them anymore, if I can just keep them out of my sight long enough. Maybe alcohol too.

It reminded me of something someone said when we first talked about moving to France. I knew I would miss everything and everyone around me and I was told that in time I wouldn't need them anymore and they wouldn't need me. In time, we would continue to live new lives and the dependency we had on each other would wane. They would forget me and I would forget them. Life would naturally move forward. And eventually there would be no place for me with them, nothing to miss.

The idea was reassuring in one small way because I knew I wouldn't feel lost and lonely forever but a lingering sadness took its place. I don't want them out of my heart.

Can things and people you love be out of your heart with just less time in your sight? Well, I don't think about iced coffee or chocolate smoothies like I once did. And cheese-less pizza strips or thanksgiving sandwiches (with the cranberry sauce and stuffing). But what about people and land? I live by the Sea here and it is beautiful yet I miss the RI beaches. I miss the trees of my home and the places I know. And the people? Forget it. They are far from my sight but not out of my heart, not yet. I want to hold each face close to the eyes of my soul, study each one to remember and then tuck them safely away in my memory until I see them in the flesh again.

So this expression is a warning to me. To not let the distance of my physical sight to cause me to forget those I love and miss. I will see them again soon. And until then I will carry them close, very close to my heart and see them clearly in my mind's eye.

Back outside for a walk

The weather here in Roquebrune was thawed and the sun is beckoning. So with my nifty orthopedic inserts tucked into my sneakers, my Ipod on and Anna along, I head out to walk the Cap.

Its been weeks since I took this walk, down the 1 million steps to the cliff edge of France and then around and up and over and through the rocks that embrace the sea.

I was sweating within minutes, naturally. Anna wanted to stop at every tree, fence, flower and spot of dirt. We had to weave through the Italians grouped around each corner, wearing coats and hats and scarves..and heels, discussing the scenery and where to have dinner. The men mixing concrete and patching holes left from the winter erosion. The smell of flowers hung in the cool afternoon air and the waves splashed merrily against the cliffs. I wanted to jump in and swim.

It felt like spring, although Dennis assured me that true spring is several weeks away. My blood was singing and my feet were spry, so much so that I ran ...yes, ran up every staircase we encountered (and there are many).

But by the time the 45 minute walk was over and we had reached the street, I was very tempted to call for a ride home. After resting on a bench and bathing a little longer in the setting sun over Monaco, Anna and I began the climb uphill toward home. It was an uphill climb all the way, ending in 4 flights of stairs to our apt. It nearly killed me in my present bread and cheese drowned body (see the previous blog entry) but I am still alive and ready to do it all again.

Cheese and Bread, my friend and my foe

When we first decided to live in France, I knew that staying away from the cheese and bread would be hard. I knew that control would be difficult and that I had an immense struggle on my hands.

So I didn't struggle, stay away or control myself. I ate every piece of bread and sampled every chunk of cheese that was placed in my path. I even sought the cheese and bread out when it wasn't readily available. For example, while in Italy at an open market, I waited in line to sample the Parmesan, even though I had no intention of buying. I sampled several tables, in fact. Every table, to be honest.

I tried to rationalize, another sign of my addiction. "I will walk to the bakery and get the bread and walk back" as if that was enough exercise to justify the consumption of   the    entire    loaf!

Do you know how delightful a slice of goat cheese spread on a piece of warm sesame seed baguette is? What about adding an inch of butter between the cheese and the bread? How about topping it off with fig preserves?  Well, let me just say, I'm drooling as I type.

Well, the gluttony has caught up with me and I sit before you, a woman condemned. My jeans are tight, my coat won't button and a woman I know recently remarked on how much weight I've gained since moving to France.

So now, because of my lack of self-control, I am cut off completely from the cheese and bread. I sit at the dinner table, while the rest family enjoys the warm bread and plate of cheese..and I drink my water. Like a prisoner in my own home, I prepare the bread and cheese, watch others eat it and then clean up after them. Will I start fantasizing about what I can no longer have? No doubt. Maybe I will be able to enjoy the cheese in my dreams.  It is my own fault. I said yes yes yes and now its a world of no.