Part Two: Actually, Paris

Have you ever felt completely at the mercy of love, all parts of you, from animal instinct to delineated reason?

Ascribe it to what you will, subdued expectations, abbreviated chances, an almost desperate need for warmth and sunshine--whatever it was, Paris took all of us by surprise, and, still, she has us in her grip. What a city! What a trip!

So, right, let's remember, it's President's Day weekend, and Suzy and I booked a trip to Paris, thinking still to get up and out during the cold months in Berlin. A delayed late flight and an Uber ride later, we find ourselves well past midnight starting to freeze and ringing a buzzer outside the front doors of our hotel in Paris. And we buzz again. And again. And we shiver. The kids are about to collapse, and Suzy and I are even worse, checking our reservations, wondering what we missed. Then the one guy working the desk that late emerges from the back and let's us in, apologizing: he really had to go to the bathroom, he explained, right as he saw our Uber approach. We all understand and laugh and get up to our room and crash. Six and half hours later, we're up and on our way to The Louvre, a place that was near the very top of my list of things to do in Europe since we took these jobs.

It was magnificent. Yep, having earliest entry, we went straight for Mona. My joy this time, apart from the high interest level of everyone in the family, was when the boys asked if we could get back in line to see her again before checking out the rest of the museum. Me, too, boys, I am bewitched as well.

So, yea, saw her. And we saw Venus, too.

And this lady.

And, of course, this one.

(In fact, Lady Liberty, even more than Mona, seems to characterize this trip best--at least for me.) And she was in a room just filled with one masterpiece after another.

Kiefer loved that last one... And we saw this

and that

and this guy holding his son

(--I think he might be modeled after me; I don't know, I didn't read the placard). Even Michelangelo got in on the action.

No, not quite the David, but the muses were certainly hard at work in The Louvre, too.

And that was that, the whole trip. Isn't it wonderful?... Oh, wait, that was only the first half of the first day. Right, we checked out Notre Dame,

and then, taking Drea's recommendation, wandered around the Latin Quarter and ate a little lunch. It was all great, but it was also wrapped up a bit by the haziness of our need for sleep. So we napped (--well, Suzy, Kiefer and I did

--don't you dare suggest that Scout ever needs to nap) before heading out that night to climb the Eiffel Tower.

That was awesome! A great first day in Paris. What more could one ask for?... Well, after a short run the next morning (--not short enough to save me the embarrassment of a full-fledged superman diving fall on the street right in front of a stranger who could not keep herself from laughing--and Suzy, my love, was way ahead of her, practically on the ground, herself, crying with laughter--Suzy actually had to do one of those forced sighs to break the unremitting causes of her hysterics--no ice, no obstacle, nor anything--just a street, a flying old bearded runner and a woman--yes, very funny)--anyway, after the short run and a little breakfast, all five of us dressed in our warm clothes again and headed out until we were standing here.

"Where is here," you ask? Here.

For those of you who don't know, this is the home field of PSG, who at present are one of the best football teams in the world. This was Suzy's idea, and it was a great one. It's not just that they have Lionel Messi. They also have Neymar Jr. and Mbappe, not to mention Verratti, Ramos, Hakimi... Actually, Hakimi did not play this day, but the big three did, and what a game it was. PSG jumped out to an early two goal lead--Mbappe and Naymar--both brilliant goals, but LOSC did not give up. Both Kiefer and Suzy were hoping LOSC might score, actually, and, before halftime, they got their wish. And then a couple of questionable calls later, along with an injury to Neymar and a whole lot of luck-engendering hard work, LOSC, the league-winners from two years ago, went up by a goal with something like 20 minutes left in regulation. Spectacular game, except that four of the five goals all happened at the far end of the stadium. But I leaned over to Charlie and said, "Now we'll see if we're just good on paper, or if we actually know how to play this game." Back and forth action, both teams needing the win, LOSC wanting to make a point. Then, in the 87th minute, right in front of us, Mbappe strikes for a second time and ties the game. What a force he is--and Verratti, too, and this central defender named Vitinha, #17, from Portugal--he was great... And then this happened.

Are you serious?!!! Messi wins the game--in extra time!!! Right in front of us. That's actually Kiefer's video with my phone. If you want to see all the highlights, copy and paste this in your browser: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhyzUWCavOI And if you want to see just that last goal again, here you go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7r4TYYriULI Oh, man, we were hugging each other, completely swept up by our incredible luck. To see that guy, score that goal, in this year. In fact, I noticed, as the game was going on, the weather kept improving. The sun had lifted the world up out of winter, and we were basking in it all--with the GOAT!

Back at the hotel, Charlie turned our room into a soccer game (his specialty of late--I think they were kicking four socks rolled up into a ball at their trundle bed), and we chilled out, until Scout's research sent us to a five-star hole-in-the-wall restaurant called The Crispy Soul. I don't know if any of you have ever had fried chicken and avacado and some other yummy sauce on a waffle before, but I will tell you, it's dangerously good. Anyway, Monday was icing on top of icing: a walk up Champs-Élysées, a yummy sandwich, and a cup of gracious "joy;"

and then a hike up to a cool basilica,

and a final crepe... When we were at the airport, waiting to board our flight, we all had the sense of having just completed a perfect trip. (I fingered the necklace my mother gave me before moving out here, a good luck charm.) Of course, Scout and Suzy paired up to test just how perfect things actually were: Scout threw her 4 million dollar airport dinner all over the ground; and Suzy dropped our plane tickets in the toilet (--yea, get this, Suzy felt bad about asking the ticket agent to handle our pee-dipped boarding passes; so she ripped off all the wet parts, making it look like the tickets had been eaten--by a werewolf!--and then she honestly asked me not to tell anyone--a request to which I responded on the instant, "What, are you crazy, I'm telling everyone the first chance I get." And there you have it... So don't listen to the too-cool-for-school naysayers. Here you have Paris, too, and with it, a French February, a month finally worthy of Valentine's Day. I know, I know, you are thinking the last appositive is just DeStefano exuberance: none of all this, from Chamonix to Paris, seems all that romantic to you. But I'm telling you, it was. Every bit of it. I have come to realize recently that, as in almost everything else, young people don't know what they think they know--who are they to teach me romance? Even the best illusions of naïveté strike me as meager now. Yes, I am in love.

And more in love than ever before. And, yes, I'm in France. Write a script... And yet, it wasn't so much Paris, or the mountains, all that divine artistry, nor even Lionel Messi. It was nothing more and certainly nothing less than the fuller embrace of my own moment. Along with Scout in Geneva, each of the rest of us found ourselves in the last days of winter, right when we weren't sure we could. Charlie in the Louvre,

Kiefer outside a book shop,

Suzy on a stairway in a subway station.

And me, just with them, my own,

the company I never even knew how to dare to wish I might one day have. "wholly to be a fool/ while Spring is in the world//my blood approves/and kisses are a better fate/than wisdom/lady I swear by all flowers"

And with this last picture that Charlie took on the plane,

I bid you all adieu, and hope you can relish something of your own great luck in this world...