A Lady In France

It’s a Small World

It’s a small world I live in.

I iron small polo shirts and wash small little underclothes from the (almost daily) accidents.

We set small traps to catch the elusive mouse who races through our vents and terrorizes us at night (grrt grrt grrt)

I make small meals for myself with lots of ginger that I sit and eat while staring at the tree outside whose yellow leaves won’t fall.

I go to the market twice a week and buy small amounts of food – enough fresh food for half a week (at not-so-small prices)

and I drive the small distances from school to town to home without venturing further.

My ears are filled with small voices saying “Ah-yet!” (“arrêt” means stop!), and my cheeks are filled with small kisses.

On Thanksgiving, I went into Paris because I had a dentist appointment. It was right off the Champs Elysées and I didn’t even bother to go see if the lights were up yet because I’m living such a small life right now. Instead, I went to McDonalds afterwards to buy hash browns, only to realize they don’t serve those in France.

I spent a couple of days trying to drag a post out of my small world before realizing the futility. I’m only a shell of what I am while I try to drag myself through this nausea and that does not make for interesting reading.

This plunges me back into the memories.

I had gotten laid off from my former job of selling financial advertising to Asian clients. It was 1998 and the entire Asian financial market had crashed so that when I tried to sell a $75,000 country profile to the Finance Minister of … (which South East Asian country was it?) he told me point-blank that his priority was to feed his people and not buy my stupid profile. In so many words.

What could I say to that? I felt smug that the guy who stepped in after me had absolutely no luck in Asia either.

So I wanted something stable, a job that I could do from 9 to 5, a secretary or something. Or at least that’s what I thought. I had been working at home, working nights, traveling back and forth to Asia – 2 weeks, 4 countries, about once every two months or so. I wanted a comfortable job so I could enjoy my life and my friends.

When I stepped into the little boutique-style bank, I thought to myself, “No way am I ever working here!” My desk would be on the third floor facing the elevator, and the only window view I would have was if I went into the boss’ office to take dictation. There were only about 30 employees, most of whom lived in Staten Island and wanted nothing more than to stay in the same job for their entire career.  This was such a far cry from the travel, the speed and the excitement I was used to.

It’s another story as to why I accepted the job, but that I did. I gritted my teeth as people coldly snubbed me in the lunchroom and I found myself sitting alone again for the first time since junior high. Ouch. Except this time I found it funny and more than a little pathetic on their part. I humbly took on the most menial tasks of making the coffee each morning and doing whatever people asked me to do without complaint. I decided that it’s not a bad thing to have a sound lesson in humility every once in awhile.

And slowly over two years, I made friends. I was consistently nice, didn’t take anything personally (as I had a great group of friends outside of work), did whatever was asked of me and grew to care about the people. They grew to care about me too.

And in those quiet two years, I started dating Sir. He had just come off a project that took him to Denver every single week for a year, where he was only home on the weekends, at about the same time that I came off my Asia stint. We had time for each other so the stars aligned. We went on our first date, got along splendidly and then started what quickly became a daily correspondence by e-mail. We were so free with our written words that we had some trouble when talking on the phone. We had to learn to get over the awkward silences.

And we started dating slowly, once every couple of weeks, a few lunch dates, until it became exclusive and I got a big bouquet of flowers at my desk and everyone rejoiced with me.

I grew to like what I was doing too. I handled payroll, I wrote and edited letters, I ordered supplies, I performed other HR tasks like job interviews and exit interviews or year-end bonuses. I liked my little desk with my set tasks each day, and that I could end the day with a sense of completion, knowing that the entire evening stretched out in front of me.  How different it is to be a mom where no evening ever stretches out luxuriously in front of you and nothing is ever completed.

My three roommates and I had fun. Sue and I shared the tiny bedroom upstairs in our brick-walled, Upper-East Side apartment, and Lisa and Neyra took the space downstairs that led to the garden.  We all had busy lives so we were not necessarily home each evening, but we always made time once a week for a family night, where Neyra would usually cook something good and we would rent a movie. The spats were few and far between.

In the mornings, I would get up early and jog around the reservoir in Central Park, passing the brownstones and the coffee-donut stands as they came to life on my way home.

It was … a small world too back then, working in that bank. But that made it no less precious. In all my younger girl’s dreams of glory how could I ever imagine that I would be living in exciting, flashy Manhattan or near stately, romantic Paris, both in the microcosm of a small world? My young head was too sure of greatness to comprehend that.

But I am now convinced of the fact that it’s not the smallness of the world that matters in the least, only how largely you live it.

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Comments

  3. Stephanie says

    I could picture this in my head as I read it, like a movie. There is no greater compliment I can give since, for me, this is how I judge any writing. By how well I can see the scene in my head.

    I really hope the nausea passes quickly and you can step outside your small world again!

    • Stephanie says

      I shouldn’t have used the word “judge” up there 😛 Sounds harsh. Especially since I mean more along the lines of “judge how much pleasure I get out of a story”. This is why I am not a writer 😛

  4. Jackie says

    I love coming here to read your stories. There is just enough detail for me to simply imagine living a life like yours. To you it’s a small world but to me it’s exciting.

  5. joann mannix says

    What a fabulous post. And there is so much in your last sentence, so much truth and beauty. I find that even the smallest moments can be the best ones of our lives if we just really do them right.

    And every time I’m over here, I marvel at the brave, big life you’ve led. No, my friend, your life is not small at all, but you knew that already. And by the way, big time congratulations!

  6. Andi says

    So, so so true! A lesson that sometimes takes a little longer to get to but when you realize it, life is so much happier.

  9. Katharina says

    You tell a wonderful “little” story. Your life. The words are come from your heart with the most caring and thoughtful emotions. Lovely. Just lovely.

  11. SE says

    Your writing is so beautiful- I really hope there is a book waiting around the corner with your name in it. I realize this might not be the time, you have your hands full… but someday, I do hope you write a book.

  12. Lynn Berns says

    I love to read your stories. Isn’t it true, we are in our own small worlds no matter where in the world we are? Thank you for sharing your life. I am praying for you today – JOY!! Love, lynn

  13. Rachel Mazur says

    I have always treasured small things and I’m not surprised that Wren loves things that are “teeny”. What a beautiful thing to have short commutes, a safe and comfortable world within the big and sometimes scary one, and little people to care for and hug and love. The other side (the more lonely, negative side) of that smallness reminds me of the closing scene in “Working Girl” where they pan out from her one office to the huge building to the huge block of buildings and on… Except in that movie, she was oblivious to the irony whereas you are focused on it. And your self-awareness can be suffocating to your self-worth. My current pit? is a total lack of community and I would write more but the littles are calling… xox you are quirky as ever.

  14. julie gardner says

    I love your words. Largely.

    You make even laundry and dental appointments and no-hash-browns-at-the-Paris-McDonald’s sound beautiful.

    And yes, I know it’s not all beauty and wonder and perfection.

    But your descriptions are. The way you bring these moments to life.

    Your world seems the opposite of small.
    And it matters to me.

    XO

  16. Kate says

    I often feel that the smallness of my world is a virtue. It is grounding and comforting. Though sometimes I still hear the calls of grandiose and monumental, I’m okay with the tiny monuments we build and crash daily here too.

  19. Leanne says

    Beautiful words, my friend. Again, the stories of your life somehow fill my soul. I think I have to write that last line and read it aloud when I need it most. Thank you for that. XO

  20. Ameena says

    What an amazingly relatable story.

    I think that being snubbed in a new job is so hard to handle. And comprehend. I’ve been there! I know. But you dealt with it beautifully.

    I too have so many dreams but I admire you for making yours come true! To live in Paris one day, or Manhattan…sigh. It’s going to take a while but I know it’ll happen for me too.

  21. Alexandra says

    I wish I could tell you just what it is about your posts, that make me want to read every single word.

    I don’t know….I’ll think on it.

    Till the next time, dear one.

    xo

    Can’t wait to meet you, hug you, see you, in August.

  23. Jennifer says

    Hi Jennie,
    I discovered your blog about a month ago and am enjoying it enormously. I’m another American mother living abroad (though not married to a Frenchman) and loving my small world here.

    I’ve also recently found myself — surprise! — pregnant and, like you, am suffering terribly with MS. It’s been five years since my last pregnancy and I’d forgotten how utterly awful it is. I hope that yours starts to lift very soon! Have you read about eating beans to combat MS? I know they don’t sound very appealing but something about the soluble fiber is supposed to help with the nausea. I’ve given it a try these last few days and I swear it’s helping.

    In any case, thank you for your blog. I’m checking back frequently for updates from you and I think you’re very brave to blog through your sickness. I consider it a good day if I manage to take a shower. 🙂

    • ladyjennie says

      Hi Jennifer – thank you kindly for your comment and encouragement. I have heard about beans, ironically from watching Bones on dvd. She said it was something about the B vitamins. Anyway, I don’t digest beans well in the best of worlds 😉 but I did try lentils, which didn’t seem to do much good. Perhaps I’ll pick up some humous tomorrow and see if that helps. Good luck!

  27. Christine Cawley says

    Wow. Just simply, WOW. Beautiful, beautiful piece… and I got teary reading it. xoxo

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