Ever since I knew there was a Paris, I wanted to go there. I’m not sure where I got such a highfalutin idea. Growing up, unless I was reading a book, my ventures outside McComb, Miss., had only gotten me as far as New Orleans and not that often.
I think now that maybe it was the French classes I took in high school and then junior college and the notion of romance, of an unforgettable rendezvous, discreet pleasures like kissing on the Eiffel Tower, snuggling on a cruise down the Seine.
My husband, Jimmy, knew this so as our 30th wedding anniversary approached, I started dropping hints again. He’d dug deep for our 20th anniversary and given me a nice diamond. A trip to Paris would be perfect. After all, since he works for Delta, the trip would be almost free.
We agreed we’d leave for the City of Light on Dec. 5, and I was soon on the phone happily sharing my plans with my sisters and our daughters, Asha and Jamila.
Now there was terror there. Should we postpone our trip or proceed as planned?
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