Last Night In Paris

Posted from my travel journal - April, 2005

It is my last night in Paris. It is well after midnight and the bells of the city have become quiet. You are gone and we all feel the weight of it.

I was sitting in a café tonight catching up with two friends of mine when the bells began to ring all over the city. Cathedrals great and small rang the solitary alto bell that signaled your passing. We all knew it instantly and orders were given to waiters, "L'addition, sil vous plait." Checks were paid and the streets begin to fill with the faithful and respectful. The bells summoning us to pay respect, to offer prayers and to remember the work of the simple Polish man, Carol Wojtyla or known more to the world as Pope John Paul, II.

Prayers were offered, and candles were lit. Strangers sat side-by-side in silence. It was monumental and sacred and special.

So, I am sitting here in the window of the Hotel Dockhan's Trocadero, overlooking the one of my favorite streets, Rue Lauriston, and dreading my departure tomorrow. I am thinking about the events of tonight, I am comforted by knowing that my prayers are still burning in Notre Dame and will be long after I am asleep.