April in Paris
by Pennycandy Jansen
"April in Paris..", the song kept running through my head, as I dressed. It was our wedding day. Opening the door to the garden, I was assailed by the heavenly scent of roses and freesias that lined the walkway. I felt I was light as a feather, as I floated slowly down the short aisle, my eyes fixed on my beloved Sam, standing at the far end beaming and grinning from ear to ear.
Looking around the garden I now I understand what he had been doing those past few weeks. Leaving our apartment he would said, "Honey I have business to attend to and let’s meet at the Café de Flore 2 p.m."
That was his routine for two weeks. He would leave and I would lounge in bed reading a book; eventually rising to bathe in the clawed foot tub filled with mounds of bubbles. Dressing only when my fingers were all wrinkly and my skin pink.
Then we were off to the Louvre or Musee d'Orsay, enjoying the paintings and sculptures. The sculptures will always remind me of Sam, chiseled, smooth and cool to the touch.
Just a few days ago we were walking in the city, and Sam said, "Let's stop in here." I had no idea what the building was until I deciphered the French word "Matrimonial."
Sam smiled, looking into my eyes. “Marry me in Paris, the City of Love?”
What girl could resist that kind of request?