Après Paris

On October 19 I flew to London and on October 22 I took the Chunnel to Paris and on October 28 I took the Chunnel back to London and on November 2 I flew back to the United States. On November 13 I was on the road again, this time to Concord, Massachusetts, for a reunion of a childhood friends. My sister was driving, and my phone started alerting me to multiple messages. “I’m glad you’re not in Paris today. xo.” “Glad you are not in Paris.” “Jesus, I’m glad you’re not in Paris.”

What the hell happened? I started searching on my phone and turned on the radio.

That night, more Facebook messages.

It’s good to have friends, and it’s interesting to be thought of in connection with a city’s tragedy based solely on when you were there and how you managed to then not be there. (I, in turn, thought about a cyberfriend who was there and gone after I was.)

I felt so lucky that Tim and I had already been, that he’d gotten to Paris at long last and that he loved it. I felt lucky that it didn’t happen right before our plans so that we didn’t have to consider whether we should go.

Religious extremism. Easy access to guns. All over the world, people seem determined to end things.

Paris. Odéon.