The most important questions.

One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.

When I first got here, I made it my mission to read the French children's classic, "Le Petit Prince." Which actually turned out to be a very difficult "children's book." There are some very beautiful themes in that book. One of them illistrates the difference in the way we view life as a child, and then how we view it as an adult. There was one part especially that stuck in my head:

"When you tell [grown-ups] that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers does he have? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him."


It always struck me as funny, the question "what does his voice sound like?" What a strange thing to use to describe someone. I stopped reading and thought about it for a little while. And I realized I couldn't really explain any of the voices in my life, honestly. But I still thought it was a beautiful idea.


Then, months later, I was having a drink with Sylvie and her friend, Thierry. We were discussing the idea of me dating Richard.  I met Richard in January, when Sylvie brought me to his birthday party on the beach. I learned later that she was playing matchmaker by doing that, but at the time I didn't care. I had no desire to seriously date anyone here. After that, Richard and I ended up spending a lot of time together going out with the group and just having fun adventures. Until a month and a half later, when he asked me to dinner.


I was at Sylvie's house the night of the "big date." I was dragging my heels and bemoaning her for not telling Richard ahead of time that I wasn't interested. She just shrugged and said "I'm staying out of that...that's your discussion!!"

So...off I went. And that's when things changed.

Maybe it was the full moon, or the beautiful restaurant with a glowing pool surrounded by sweet smelling flowers and palm trees. Maybe it was the incredible scallops, the chocolate fondue, and the perfect wine, expertly ordered. Maybe it was the amazing conversation about life and love and relationships that lasted for three hours...or when he took me down to the ocean after dessert, pressed me against some rocks, and kissed me so gently it made my head spin. Wait yeah, it was probably that.

So anyway, it was just a few days after that, that I met with Sylvie and Thierry to discuss. I was explaining to them that it was not going to become something serious...a discussion I had already had with Richard. Thierry was appalled to learn how bluntly I told Richard the next day that I could not give him what he wanted...that I was leaving and I did not intend to involve myself in a relationship on some random island. He understood and said that he wouldn't expect anything from me.

That's when Thierry did something weird. He said; "So, what does his voice sound like?" I stopped for a second, remembering the oddity of that question in Le Petit Prince, and asked Theirry why he said that...maybe it was a French thing? I told them about the passage in the story. They both just smirked and waited for my answer. So I thought about Richard's voice...and I blushed, smiling. Sylvie and Theirry burst into peels of laughter. I rolled my eyes at them, because at this time, I was still adamant that it would never be anything serious, but I guess they knew something I didn't.

I held on to that conviction all the way until I got back from Africa. Then one Saturday, we met my California girls on the beach. It was like watching some kind of chick flick movie where the kids bring the adults together, because seriously watching how he was with them just absolutely melted my heart and all my defenses. We played for hours...with the two littlest ones on his back, we swam to this tiny patch of sand in the middle of the lagoon where we had lava-sand wars, until we were all covered in splatters of black. Then they tackled him and he let them bury him for a very very long time after :-) We laughed the entire time, and at the end the girls were secretly referring to him as "Lifeguard Ken."

After that I decided to let him in a little bit ;-)

Then, (stupidly?) I fell in love.

So what does his voice sound like? I probably couldn't describe to you in words (without sounding cheesy) the sound of Richard's voice. But I can tell you that when I imagine it, it sends chills from the side of my neck down my spine, as if someone was tickling me with breath. And it's because of that, and a million other reasons both big and small, that I know things are very different this time.

Mom's Greatest Gift.

Lately, as I bask in the happiness of a perfectly wonderful life, I think back to how I got here, and I realize that it all started very early.

When I was about seven or eight, and my mom had breast cancer, my little brother and I would go to the hospital with her on Sundays while she got her chemotherapy. Since she was a librarian, and a good mom, she would read to us. A LOT. And during those Sundays in the hospital, she read to me a story called The Phantom of the Opera. I fell in love.

The Opera House, and Paris, became this magical far away kingdom that existed only in my dreams. I remember in 3rd grade, instead of playing on the monkey bars at recess, I would form a group of my closest friends to meet me under a big tree in the field. I brought my mom's "Behind the Scenes--The Phantom" book from the musical on Broadway with Sarah Brightman and Michael Crawford...which had all the lyrics to all the songs in the back(!!) And I'd conduct my little drama crew to perform the songs with me (as Christine, of course) every day.

The next year, after mom died, the Phantom started to become this "thing" between us.

In high school I spent all of my after-school time on the stage. Right around my 16th birthday, our drama group was going to New York to see some shows on Broadway!! (Every drama kid's dream come true.) The class had to vote between Miss Saigon and...The Phantom of the Opera. (Obviously, this was my mom's sweet sixteen birthday present to me.) Except the class ended up voting for Miss Saigon (idiots) and I was crushed. Then, somehow, a week later we were told that Miss Saigon was full and we would be going to see the Phantom after all. I spent my 16th birthday seeing my favorite show in the most amazing place in the world.

After high school, you are told that you need to find a career that is sturdy and successful and will make you lots of money. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, or how to pay for college and so I joined the Army, and spent the next four years being very serious and trying to do all the things you're supposed to do as an adult. I was determined to create a secure, normal future for myself. And I did just that. At 22 years old I landed a government job making 72K a year. I worked from 9-5 and commuted for an hour on the metro. I wore flats for the commute and changed into heels in my cubicle. I was the perfect example of a young professional. And I was absolutely miserable.

So one day I threw it all away and packed up my car and drove to Texas, where I was determined to follow my heart and go back in time to the two things I had always loved...acting, and French.

My third year in college, I was able to study abroad in Paris for a month. Immediately, I found my way to the Opera Garnier, no longer in a little kid's fantasy, but the real life thing. The metro stop is called Opéra, and when I got off, my heart was beating fast. The Opera house is directly in front of the metro stop, which I did not know at the time. All I remember is that while I was climbing the seemingly 1 billion steps up from the metro, the Opera house slowly started to appear, getting bigger and bigger as I climbed in all of it's golden glory. I stood across from it feeling very very small and trying not to cry. If ever there was a time in my life that I felt my mom was with me, it was exactly right at that moment.

come to me, angel of music

And so, here I am, years later, living in France, and loving every single second I'm alive. I'm not sure if the moral of this story is to read to your children, or to study a foreign language...if it's both, or something completely different, but I do know one thing for certain. Learning French has changed my life more than anything else has...more than four years in the Army, more than $72,000, more than failed relationships and heartbreaks or anything else that has happened. It has opened doors for me that I never dreamed existed before. It has enabled me to see things I never thought I would see, learn things about humanity and the world that I never thought I would know.

Here I am, at 28, with the whole wide world in front of me, more hopeful that I've ever been...and it's all because my mom decided, right before she died, to read me a book called The Phantom of the Opera. 


It was the best thing she could have done for me.