Gray

If you know me, you know how I feel about Paris' grayness. Last winter, it was particularly oppressive. At some point, when there was a sunny day, I would almost resent the fact that the sun shone. I felt like it was just teasing me, reminding me what I didn't have. It was mean and fickle.

The gray skies are back. Maybe not. We did have divine weather in September, but I hear the pummeling rain on my windows and I sense that it's here again. It is alright. I've always associated fall with crisp air and crunchy leaves, and winter with snow, but I can make new connections. Rain for both. Not so bad if you twist it around in your brain. And look at that building - it just wouldn't do with a brilliant blue sky framing it. It was destined for gray.

In my defense (because I usually get criticism when I write something that is less than optimistic), I really like Paris (finally). I like my job. I like my friends. I like the things I get to see all the time. I want to be here. I feel more and more like myself in French and around Frenchies (miracles do happen even in this day-and-age). It is just going to take me a few more seasons to like the undying gray of fall and winter.