I smoke. Blah, blah, blah, I know I should quit. But I ain’t gonna and this isn’t about that nastiest of habits. It’s about where I smoke most days.
I smoke on my balcony overlooking the little bistro on the corner. As Parissienes are famous for two hour lunches and even longer happy hours I have spent countless hours watching them lean into the joie de vivre.
As I type this, on my balcony, cigrette lit, I can see a couple enjoying lunch, café in hand, having an animated conversation about who knows what. The man, in his button down blue shirt putting his hand to his chest as he laughs at something the woman, spoon stirring the contents of her black espresso cup, just said. At the table beside them is a man, alone, donned in an oversized grey scarf (I really must get one) scrolls through his phone and jots down notes into his white notepad. I assume he is waiting for someone, but it is not at all unusual to see people alone.
The other night, after it had rained all day, a group of young women bundled in faux furs, oversized scarves of their own, and those hidesous fluffy boots sat outside for hours drinking wine, laughing, and enjoying the fresh, cool air that comes after the rain has passed. I wondered what they were talking about.
As the three of them sat there I couldn’t help but notice that two of them were constantly addressing the one in the white faux fur, ocassionally hugging her. That’s when I realized she was wiping tears from her eyes just as the other two leaned in and embraced her. It was touching. Maybe she was going through a bad breakup. Or worse, had gotten one of those calls we all dread. You know the call. The kind that stops your world and leaves a broad line of before and after. Or maybe she was just homesick.
Whatever the reason, it was a very human moment. While I felt a little guilty for being a bit of a voyeur in their moment I also found myself praising her two friends for being good humans.
I think the humanity I get to witness is my favorite thing about La Garçonniere. Well, their croque monsieur is my favorite thing, but the humanity on display is a close second.
The couple is gone now, but the man has been joined by two friends. His phone is put away and the three of them are being served. They are far braver than I would ever be – wearing white collared shirts to a restaurant. I would end up wearing as much food as I consumed, but they seem to have been raised better.
There’s a little girl who comes with her dad fairly regularly. I wonder if it is her favorite place, or maybe it’s “their” place. Dad always seems so in the moment when they’re together. My guess is that he understands that this time with her is fleeting; that soon she will be too cool to want to hang out with dad alone, so he savors every moment he gets. She shows him things on her tablet and he nods along, sometimes even laughs in that way that dads laugh when they have no idea what they are looking at.
The love is the thing that is unmissable.
I forget that humans can be so fucking beautiful sometimes. I love that I have my own little piece of the world that reminds me of that daily.
My cigarette is out even though I hardly touched it so, I will leave you now.
Next time I will tell you all about the dapper old couple that canoodle like teenagers.
