Des Semelles Américains: different names for the same thing

the port of Cassis

Spending this past weekend in Cassis, a small resort town forty-five minutes from Marseille where I took part in an exchange program five years ago, served as a much needed break from the chaos of Paris. Though I have only been in Paris for four weeks, I have begun to feel the effects of the city, and must admit that last week, I was beginning to become a bit homesick. I was longing for the feeling of family, of being in a home rooted in love.

the lovely Laffitte home

Since my return from this short weekend vacation, I can honestly say that I feel as if I am a part of two distinct families—my own family back in Atlanta, and the Laffitte family, who are lucky enough to call Cassis their home. Five years ago, they opened their doors to a fourteen-year-old American boy from Atlanta. Now, after experiencing the tragic loss of the father who treated me like his own, they welcomed me back with many a bisous. Time had passed, life had changed, but their love for me remained strong.

After the death of a beloved father and husband, Brigitte, Antoine, and Victoire Laffitte have formed a bond so strong it is visible to the human eye. In the presence of these wonderful people, I found proof that there is such a thing as life, and even love, after tragedy. Following a farewell dinner on the shores of Mediterranean, Antoine and Victoire shared with me their favorite pictures of the late Jacques, and the strength in their eyes while doing so was more than moving—it brought me to tears.

my french mother, Brigitte

At this moment, I knew I was witnessing an act of genuine human love, an act so rare that when it occurs, one is speechless. In my case, there truly were no words to express the honor I felt during these precious moments. All I could do was sit, and watch, and listen.

Here I was in this small house on the hills of this tiny French town on the vast and beautiful Mediterranean, and I was entirely and fully surrounded by love. Despite our different languages, despite our different cultures and backgrounds, the four of us, the three Laffittes and I, were connected by something so much bigger. We were intertwined by something that transcends borders and barriers. We were neither American nor French. We were human beings opening our hearts to one another and that was all that mattered.

No matter the language, no matter the place, there really is no difference in genuine love being two people. L’amour, love: it’s all the same. And this past weekend, the Laffittes showed me that love, no matter where you go, truly is all around.