Three years and three months ago today I was standing here with your hand in mine. I was pointing out to you all the beautiful sights of Paris from the top floor of the Eiffel Tower. It was such a beautiful sight, do you remember? The sun was setting, casting it’s beautiful last rays onto all of Paris while the city lights slowly turned on. What a perfect time to be there, atop the most beautiful city in the world.
Do you remember how beautiful Sacre Coeur looked from up there? The rosy pink glow from the sunset. How beautiful it looked then, a rose colored monument atop the only hill of Paris. Notre Dame, the Louvre, and the Pompidou Center, even the Défénse, Paris’s business district, all glowing bright as the city of light, the city of love, fell deeper and deeper into the summer night. And the infamous golden dome concealing beneath it Napoleon’s grave. Who else would leave such a vibrant mark on the Parisian skyline?
Do you remember how I pointed out everything to you? How we went all around the top of the tower and I kept trying to tell you all the landmarks I recognized between the large diamonds of the gate? Do you even remember that man who joined in our conversation? How he asked me what and where things were? He was a tourist like us, an older man with a large camera around his neck, before they were so popular, and a fanny pack around his waist.
Did you know that that was one of the happiest days of my life. Top five. I was so happy to be on top of Paris like that. To see all of Paris from one point and to be able to vividly see and name all the famous landmarks of Paris. But most importantly, I was so happy to have shown it to you. I don’t know if you knew it at that moment or any time during our European post college trip, or even now, but I was so happy that day to have spent and shared it with you by my side. That evening, it was only you and me atop the Eiffel Tower. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was there. You. Me. And Paris.
No comments:
Post a Comment