Again I was awoken by a brisk spring Paris breeze that made its way into our living room. The white silky curtains delicately danced in and out, the images of fainting ghosts reminded me of the way Isabelle danced on stage. But spring did not bring blooming flowers, but a bittersweet reminder as I stared at a bowl of fruit on our dining room table.
I rolled over to my side so that Isabelle could be more comfortable in my arms. Slowly, Isabelle opened her eyes and buried her face in my chest while wrapping us tightly in her hand knit pink summer blanket. Again, she held back her tears.
♫ Today’s BMG from Our Playlist. Enjoy!!
Serenade for Strings in C major, Op. 48