Funny. Conflicting feelings have been preying on my mind since I've arrived at my parents. Most of them I remember having when I was a wee girl, and France was a holiday country. When a cornfield was a whole world of possibilities. The mountains, the sun, the blue sky, a cool breeze - that was all I needed to imagine a future life that would see me happily settled around this place. I remember feeling like that, and thinking that everything was so very fleeting: after all, I was only there for the summer holiday.
Oh how people change. I wouldn't want to go back there for longer than a week, now. Hell, even a week seems too long.
It has however struck me that the scents, the light, the colours, the houses, the whole landscape that is my parents' village have induced the same kind of feelings this time. The "worldful" of possibilities feeling, which I quite like, I have to say, even when tinged with the tiniest bit of nostalgia for a moment that is already passing.
Or maybe I'm full of crap and kidding myself. Wouldn't put it past me.