Today marks three years since I arrived to Paris. Filled with lightness and love. Ready to begin a new chapter. Unaware of the challenges ahead as the hopeful optimist won over the practical realist. How am I feeling as I reflect on the last three years of my life as an expat in Paris? Finally, at home.
Year one was the hardest of all. Refining myself and discovering my place within a new context.
Year two was all about establishing myself and building a new life. A year of growth.
Year three, at least to me, is much about letting go and accepting the idea of ‘home’. I still struggle with calling Paris my home. Wasn’t it after all, New York where I became who I am, and where so much of me still resides? Or so I thought. Until the realization struck that home is a feeling as much as it’s a place. When I am in NYC, with it’s energy and motion I feel at home, and perhaps always will. But what I have now come to accept is that my home too, is Paris with it’s cobbled streets and history, Monterosso with it’s coastal charm, and Sanok which holds the key to my ancestry.
Most of all, this last year in Paris has taught me that we learn to define ourselves, not simply by the places in which we live, but also by the people we surround ourselves with, our interests and hobbies, our travels and experiences. And equally, the celebrations and hardships that accompany this journey. Paris is now as much a home to me as New York, and I am even more richly defined.
