The Memoirist
Published in

The Memoirist

LIVING IN FRANCE: Why are Family Visits So Bittersweet?

Photo by Amine rock hoovr on Unsplash

In a couple of days, I will drop my daughter and her husband off at the train station in Beziers. They will take the train to Barcelona and from there, fly back to the States.

I will cry, I’m sure. I cried when they arrived. I hadn’t seen them for more than three years. We clung together, as though we’d never voluntarily part again.

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Janice Macdonald

Janice Macdonald

At 68, I started a new chapter in my life: I moved to France. Alone. It turned out to be quite the page-turner. Still is — even when age insists on a part.