A Cup of Life.

"I miss you and I miss our old life" the text read. And as I sat day dreaming about the life I once led, my thoughts drifted to the infamous Montmartre, an artist's paradise and my favorite district in Paris. After recalling the busy scenery, the sweet smells and the sounds of the ever-so smooth French language, my mind came to rest on a small table outside a quaint cafe. There, my memory stopped and focused in on one cup of coffee and one cup of tea.

A lot can happen in 365 days. I realize the weight of this statement as I sit alone with a cup of coffee at the antique white dining table in my new home in a new city. Time is interesting in that minutes and days can pass so slowly, yet weeks and months so quickly. And while the time is passing so are the moments, the experiences and the memories. It is hard for me to comprehend exactly how certain memories can stay so fresh in your mind, while others fade silently into the background. Which ones take precedence over the others and how do you subconsciously choose the ones that last?

It was a brisk day in France when we stumbled across that little cafe. Wandering through the busy streets with no agenda and no time limit, we had become increasingly drunk off the French culture, the history, the beauty and maybe just a little tipsy off the wine we had been sampling all afternoon. Dodging yet another artist begging to sketch us for a "special price", we quickly turned a corner and found ourselves in a square that we could have only ever imagined in our dreams. Naturally, wanting to spend as much time as possible in this little pocket of perfection we jumped on an opportunity to sit at a small outside table amongst the bright colors and bustling crowd. It was here that we laughed when placing our order, realizing that living together for five months had made both of us too predictable. One cup of coffee with cream and one cup of tea, sugar for both please.

How many times in our five month stint in Europe had we done this? Sitting in a coffee shop or at a train station sipping on our preferred drink and taking in the scenery. Yet somehow, this time was different. It was as if time was standing still and no one cared. We watched while an artist placed the first of many strokes on a clean canvas and stared in amazement as the painter next to him put the finishing touches on his latest masterpiece. We laughed as a waiter at the cafe across the way tried to lure some female passerby's in with charm and a not-so-subtle wink of the eye. Soaking in the experience and sipping on our drinks of choice we began to talk life. We talked about the future, what it held for us and where we were headed after our European love affair was complete. Imaging our lives and our future selves we made predictions and prophecy's and in the end, promises.

Promises to never forget that afternoon, those moments and the scenery. Promises to return to Paris and stumble upon that same square and most of all, the promise that no matter how crazy life gets, no matter how many years pass and how many new memories are made, we will always make time for each other and one cup of coffee, one cup of tea, and one giant cup of life.

I received her text today and as I read it, I was surprised by the memory of that afternoon and the vividness it still holds in my mind. There we were, two American girls spending a simple afternoon in Paris, sipping on coffee and tea, all the while making a memory that would last a lifetime.