08/28/2026
Remembering Paris in Spring
Some memories don’t fade.
They wait.
They live somewhere beyond the years and the ordinary days, still illuminated exactly as we left them.
A certain night.
A certain light.
A certain person beside you.
And suddenly, for just a moment, you are there again.
You remember what it felt like when love was new—when the person beside you wasn’t simply part of your life yet, but seemed to be the whole beautiful possibility of it.
Before the years gathered around you.
Before love became schedules and responsibilities and a thousand quiet acts of devotion.
Before you understood just how quickly a lifetime could pass.
There was only the night.
The glow of a city that seemed made for lovers.
And two people holding one another as though there could never possibly be enough time.
Years later, on a warm summer night, the moon glows in a certain familiar way—and suddenly, she is there again.
Time folds in on itself. The years between disappear, and those sweet, nostalgic memories return with such tenderness that she can almost feel that night around her again—the light, the warmth, the wonder of being completely in love.
For just a moment, memory becomes more than remembrance.
She gets to live it again.
Not because she wishes to go backward, but because perhaps that is one of love’s greatest gifts: some moments become so deeply woven into us that even decades later, a familiar moon can find them—and bring them home.
Remembering Paris in Spring
Original oil painting by Icee Jolly
Some places stay with us because of where they are. Others stay with us because of who we were when we loved there. ❤️
