On our departure day, all I could do was take my bags down to the sidewalk, wait for our cab and leave.

The day before, after our long walk, we grabbed lunch from the one and only L’As du Fallafel on Rue des Rosiers. Sitting on a stoop a few streets over, I got a call from a good friend in Texas who was checking in on me on my last day. It may have been a quick call, but it was a big reminder that even though I was leaving a place I loved, I was returning to the faces, hearts and lives of so many people that I love and have missed.

We followed lunch by people watching in my favorite of favorite squares, Place des Vosges. Tearing myself away after an hour, I met up with my dear friend, Brooke, for one more afternoon of random wanderings. Deciding on ice cream at Berthillon on Ile St. Louis, we slowly crossed the river and tried to act like this was just another of our afternoon meetings. And when I was nearly an hour late to meet my parents, we faced the inevitable and said we’d see each other soon. With mom and dad in tow, I went to officially au revoir the city at the top of the Pompidou. It was raining – clearly Paris wasn’t happy about the situation either. Finally, with a nutella crepe in hand and sans umbrella, we made our way back to the apartment for sleep.

In Paris Was Ours, Penelope Rowlards writes this about her family’s departure from Paris: If you’re seven and living in a country like France where fireworks are legally sold, there’s really only one way to say good-bye: Julian and I had long decided to set off a rocket to mark our departure…I wish I could write that the rocket shot skyward, limning this scene by the fire of its propulsion, silhouetting our lives, this moment, this place that mattered so to us. But in truth it sputtered out after rising only a few feet, crashing anticlimatically back to the ground, and I steered a weary seven-year-old – my son, my light – out of the park…We were just two people, just two lives – Paris had reminded us of that, every chance it could – and on the very next day we’d be reposistioning ourselves on earth. There was nothing left to do but leave. Just go.

There’s no real way to say goodbye to something this monumental, because somewhere along the journey, the two of you fused. And so when you leave, you’re also taking the city with you.

So, as the cab pulled up, all there was to do was get in and allow the driver to pull away, knowing that it won’t be indefinitely, it won’t be forever. Trusting that one day, I’ll be back.