Letter to the 19 Year Old That Arrived in France

Dear 19 year old Veronica,

Hi. It’s 21 year old you. You are now officially the age to be able to step foot in a bar in America (you did this past Christmas when you visited family and friends). I am writing this to tell you that you are strong. Continue reading “Letter to the 19 Year Old That Arrived in France”

A Beautiful Mess

Give me 6-12 months in a new town or city, my mind will start to think about the next city to live in. It is a habit, something I cannot help. I noticed it the last move, between Oregon and Indiana. I absolutely adored the suburb I lived in outside of Portland, the friends I had made and the high school I went to (my teachers made going to school worthwhile). Then when we arrived to Indiana, I cried for months. Why had I agreed to move when I loved home so much?

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Red Lips, Black Heels

On the wind, ‘cross the sea, / Hear this song and remember… Soon you’ll be home with me / Once upon a December.

IMG_1643We used to chant growing up, “together in Paris!”

Here we are, 16 years later, never actually knowing that we would be living together… in Paris.

Continue reading “Red Lips, Black Heels”

Becoming a Woman

Ever since I was little, I was always told that I was big. My family always commented on my body and on how much weight I needed to lose. I went to Spain one summer by myself at the age of 10 and I remember people commenting on the fact that I had lost weight by the end of my stay. I was too aware of my body from such a young age, something that lead to a secret anxiety about it. Shopping was horrendous and I would always end up crying on my mother’s shoulders, another person who highly regrets commenting so much on my body as much as everyone else did. I look back on pictures now and I was never big. My body just physically grew up fast.

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If We Were Having Coffee (Or Hot Chocolate?)

It’s Thursday, yay!

If we were having coffee, I would probably have ordered (or made, depending on where we decided to chat) a hot chocolate instead. Lately, I am coffeed out (yes, I know coffeed is not a word but that is what my mother says when she can’t stand coffee for a while and needs a break). Continue reading “If We Were Having Coffee (Or Hot Chocolate?)”

A Season of Change

 Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils… -You’ve Got Mail

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It is officially autumn here in Paris (i.e. my favorite season because sweaters, boots and coffee). After a blistering, hot September it is nice to finally enter the routine of school and work (and dear god, I need to find an extra curricular activity). The more I am here, the more I fall in love with the city of love.

Continue reading “A Season of Change”