06/21/2026
Huffing my 45 pound bag out of the bus aisle after racing to catch a packed train following a power outage, I realized I had lost it.
After a beautiful stay in Paris, our final hotel literally a 17th century window away from Notre Dame, we headed to the train station to get back to the chateau.
We were met with shoulder to shoulder passengers and news of a power outage, no guarantee any trains would run that night.
Four hours later we ran like madmen for the one train leaving that night. We desperately cried out in English to be let on as the doors could close any second.
People made room for our bodies and our luggage.
Smashed in there, summer heat blazing, my four euro hand fan became the hero.
Stop after stop we swayed together. Then our stop was cancelled.
We piled onto a bus, praying it would take us back. As I heaved my luggage up the steps, then onto my lap, then up and down the aisle with each departing passenger, it dawned on me.
I had lost it. The weight of my bag. 45 pounds.
I had felt it walking up the dome steps without losing my breath. I had felt it walking the streets of Paris without getting tired.
But the reality of what I’d been carrying didn’t compute until I had to lug that bag myself.
I am so grateful for that freedom.
I cheered when the bus finally made it to our station past midnight. And I especially cheered to see our car, which doesn’t even have a lock, was still there.
My shoe was kind and didn’t break until we got to the door. My torn sole, holy sock, and black smudged feet were the signs of a trip well traveled.
Shout out to Jared McDonald | METABOLISM SPECIALIST for giving me the energy and freedom to thoroughly enjoy this trip!
