Une americaine en France

You know, I always get into the most trouble when I listen to my mind en lieu de my soul. A couple days with that family, and I knew that something was wrong. Yet, I refused to leave because they hadn’t done anything like hit me or lock me in my room. Obviously, I blamed myself, because that’s what I generally do. I thought, “Danielle, you come from the most loving fam ever. Your fam in Rennes is also crazy in love with you. They call you all the time and say adorable things like ‘bizou bizou bizou…we love you;’ Just because things aren’t perfect doesn’t mean that they are wrong.”

But, in the end, they were wrong. The house was filthy. Dirt, dust, smoke everywhere. The house was full of bugs. They didn’t feed me well. The mom screamed and screamed at little dude all the time. She would smack him, too, which made me want to puke. It was all so wrong, and it’s easy to see that now that I’m gone. I felt so uncomfortable. It felt cold and serious all the time.

However, the proof I needed came, as usual, too late. I don’t know a lot, but the few years I’ve been here on earth, I’ve figured out that goodbyes tell you a lot about a person. It can be a goodbye for the weekend or a goodbye forever; regardless, they always seem to reveal some of the most crucial parts of the person’s character and where you stand with that character.

I had been on a trip to Bretagne with the group. Being so happy there made me realize that enough was enough when it came to being miserable here. I thought of my family in Bretagne and how close we became in just one week. I realized that, when I left France, I never wanted to see my other family ever again. That’s weird for me. I decided, on the phone with Mama Lenz, that I couldn’t live with the other family any longer.

My goodbye with Dominique confirmed a lot. It was cold. She refused to look at me, and she said that I could not come back and get my stuff until she was out of the house on Monday. Hurray for rewearing an outfit 4 days in a row. This was the woman that I had sensed since day one. Even without the other, blatantly horrible things, I don’t think I could have survived. Even though her hello had been bright and welcoming, it somehow wasn’t. Even though she claimed to be interested in me, she wasn’t.

That’s why goodbyes are so crucial. Hellos are full of pretense. You can expect anything from a person. You can have so many ideas about them that they are literally a person that your dreams are made of. Even when you know them, you can still project. Those times you say, “If it wasn’t for this, she’d be fine.” New: don’t expect this or that. Probably won’t happen. I could have waited another year in that house, but, in all likelihood, she would not have stopped yelling; she would not have stopped hitting; the bugs would still be crawling; the dirt would still be collecting. I’ll share this: there is nothing special, nothing promising about a friendly hello.

During goodbyes, however, all pretense is lost. There is nothing left to expect. She didn’t have to be nice. It didn’t matter, so she wasn’t. She didn’t have to be warm, so she was cold. She didn’t have to be funny or charming, so she was serious. And, so, those are the things that she probably, for the most part, really is. I was shy and unfomfortable and said thank you a lot. That is how I really was in that house. That goodbye was when I knew that I had always known.

I need to stop listening to my mind. Logic is my poison.

03

Jul. '11

I just burnt my fingerprint off making crepes.

So French it burns.

Une americaine en France

I have so much stuff.

My French grandfather refers to me as “America”.

Yes, I did spend 4 hours eating a lunch that consisted of:

“My father is a maniac, like Monk”

New Family/Goodbyes are the best way to get to know someone.

I just burnt my fingerprint off making crepes.