Bonjour. Je m’appelle Whitney. C’est l’hiver.
That’s what I remember after three years of French and a trip to Europe. And quite frankly, I had to look up how to say some of that anyways. I’m a fraud, whatever.
I did actually take three years of French in High School though, before my best friend and I dropped the class senior year because it was getting too hard. And by too hard I mean, we weren’t learning colors and numbers anymore and playing games. On my sixteenth birthday however, I was looking out the window of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France. It was a school trip, but I doubt I learned a thing.
I hate to say it, but memory fades, and I can’t quite remember everything from that trip. I wish I would have taken notes, and written everything down so it wouldn’t have had the chance to leave me so quickly. I didn’t do that though. I took pictures, hundreds of pictures, which are somewhere at my parent’s house, in photo albums or boxes. I kept two with me though; the Eiffel Tower in the day, and at night, side by side in an orange frame. It hangs above my TV in my dorm, where I can catch a pretty shitty side-view from my bed.
I’m not really sure why that is the only memory I choose to display from such an amazing trip. Nonetheless, it hangs there bragging about where I have been all by itself. It hangs there to remind me of the place I want to return to. It hangs there in memory of Madame Grote, who passed away from kidney cancer this past year. It hangs there to scold me about the fact that my parents are probably still paying off that trip. It hangs there in place of all the things I should have written, but didn’t. Although, it doesn’t mean I still can’t, and maybe, you’ll get to read about them someday.
Until then, Au Revoir!