Once upon a time, a girl went to Paris and met a boy. In this city of love, where ordinary things appear magical, and magical things happen every day, their friendship blossomed like a sweet flower in spring. Then came the day when the girl had to leave and as she boarded her flight, tears blurred her vision as she remembered the wonderful times she had enjoyed there and the amazing people she had met. Spring turned into summer and summer turned into fall, and while the leaves changed to crimson in Charlotte, the girl wistfully thought of the boy and their sweet moments together in that faraway city, even as she wrapped her Parisian scarf around her neck and walked to her car after a long day of work and school. And the boy, as he gazed at the Seine from the privacy of his balcony at night, thought of the girl who had captured his eyes with her classic American beauty and her warming smile that reached into his soul.
Fall turned into winter and the boy asked the girl to come and spend the holiday with him in the city of magic where they had met. The girl, who was as much in love with Paris as with the boy, accepted the invitation, and with the presents barely unwrapped from under the tree, took off for her enchanting adventure.
As the taxi dropped her off in the courtyard of the boy's home, she was momentarily dazed at the wonder of it all. Across the street was the Muse d'Orsay, which housed all the Impressionist paintings she loved; down the street within view was the Louvre, where she and her friends had spent many afternoons studying art (or was it the naked sculptures?); and all around her were architectural masterpieces that looked down on her in lofty majesty.
Then the boy came to meet her and as he embraced her with welcoming arms and led her up seven flights of a 17th century spiral staircase to his flat on the top floor, she knew this was real and she was indeed a princess in her very own fairy tale. The magical days that followed were filled with shopping in designer boutiques, elegant luncheons of champaigne and dessert, late dinner cruises on the Seine, venturing into the underground of Les Egout (Paris's famed sewer system portrayed in Les Miserables), visiting the Eiffel in all it's golden nighttime glory, riding with the boy on his Vespa through the cobblestoned alleys of the oldest districts of Paris, eating at exclusive restaurants with food fine enough for royalty, and walking through Montmartre, the neighborhood of famous writers and artists.
Every morning, while the girl was still asleep, the boy went to the bakery around the corner to purchase a fresh croissant for her breakfast, which he served on a tray, along with a bowl of fresh strawberries topped with real cream. They spent their days laughing together, dancing together, walking together, and riding all over Paris together, enjoying each other's company. And at night, they climbed the ancient staircase to the boy's apartment, tired but happy. As the moon rose over the Seine, casting its glow on the sparkling water, the girl fell asleep with a happy sigh of contentment.
All too soon, it was time for the girl to go home. They gazed into each other's eyes and as he kissed her good-bye, the boy wondered if she would come again, and the girl left with the city and the boy a little more firmly in her heart than before.
As US Airways flight 867 touched down in Charlotte, the girl gave a small sigh as a tear trickled down her cheek. Theirs was an impossible romance, with an ocean and committments that kept them apart. But for now, they each carried the golden memories of their time together. And that would have to be enough.
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