"This one's for you!" (pictured: that's me with the cake, my husband, right, gets all the wine around here–even when we lived on a vineyard, where wine all but flowed from the garden hose.)
A (Very Special) DAY IN A FRENCH …by Kristi Espinasse
Yesterday a delicate and meaningful milestone quietly passed. Waking up, I searched for a way to respectfully acknowledge the date, lest it pass as another ordinary day. Quietly walking out to the bedroom terrace, I looked around at the countryside. As far as the eye could see, there was greenery: olive and almond trees, the forest, and the sea.
It was a relief to wake with a clear head and no regrets. Breathing in the morning scent, I closed my eyes. Now was the time. I offered up the simple acknowledgment, and thanks. There was a moment of complete and utter silence, and then seagulls cried in the distance. A train passed, blowing its horn. The neighbor's dogs barked. My robe sagged, and I reached down to tighten the belt. It was both an ordinary and an extraordinary day.
"You can take me to lunch," I hinted to Jean-Marc, both reminding him of the important date—and suggesting how he might help me to mark the occasion.
"How about with a big glass of cognac?" he chuckled.
"That is NOT funny!" No matter how many times I tell him that such jokes, given the circumstance, are in bad taste, he cannot help himself.
"OK, then how about a six-pack?" my husband continued.
"T'es terrible!"
"I'm very proud of you," Jean-Marc assured me, planting a kiss on my lips. His tenderness provoked flashbacks of years ago, when I would discover little notes stuck in a book I was reading or in the pocket of my robe.
"Çela fait dix jours. Continue, Mon Amour… That makes ten days. Keep it up, My Love," the encouragements read, and "Trois semaines! Fier de toi, Ma Chérie! Three weeks now! So proud of you, My Dear!"
The scribbled notes were encouraging but had I foreseen the future, I might not have had the guts to continue on the new path, not knowing that some of the rockiest parts were just around the corner. The hand-written notes would stop. The sores would begin to open.
A decade has passed and I am still on that fragile path; despite all the setbacks, I have never once veered off track. And even if I wouldn't be celebrating the 10-year mark with a glass of champagne, I was looking forward to eating out with my husband.
Only, when my daughter ran up, asking to bring a friend home for lunch, plans changed. Five months at the new school, and she, too, had passed a delicate milestone: the courage to invite a new friend home!
Well, at least I no longer have to fret about what to wear to the restaurant! The positive thoughts continued as I set about tidying the house, and preparing for my daughter's special lunch.
But as I hurried to fix up the house for our important guest, I felt a familiar rush of panic. There won't be time to finish the cleaning AND to get the meal started. Recognizing the anxiety—that old foe that I could not cope with ten years ago—I was able to put a stop to it. No, there wouldn't be time if I insisted on a perfect outcome. But there was plenty of time otherwise!
What was important, after all, wasn't how the house looked or what we ate, it was how our guest would feel. I wanted Jackie's friend to experience that good and cozy and welcoming feeling and to leave with a desire to return!
"Promise to come back and see us?" I said, kissing my daughter's friend goodbye after lunch.
"Oui!" came the shy response.
Noticing the look in the young lady's eyes it seemed a guardian angel was smiling back at me. If I had gone to the restaurant to celebrate and be pampered, I would have missed this heavenly encounter.
At the end of the day Jean Marc presented me with a gift. Gently tapping on the door to the bedroom, where I had been putting away a stack of freshly folded clothes, he curled his finger several times, signaling to me to follow him.
I was a little leery of whatever he was dragging me out to see. After polyester pajamas, discount branch shredders, and T-shirts I could never wear in public, I never knew what kind of gift was up his sleeves.
"Will I like it?" I asked, nervously, letting my husband lead me by the sleeve.
Opening the front door, I saw the little cherry tree posed just beyond the welcome mat, like a gushing guest. I looked closely at the delicate, leafless branches. The tiny buds were burgeoning.
"Congratulations!" Jean-Marc said. "I'm so proud of you!"
The burgeoning continued, inside of me, as teardrops surfaced like the little buds of the cherry tree. Fragile as its branches, my sobriety continues.
Update: February 3rd, 2019, I celebrated 16 years of sobriety.
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You are such a Talented Writer! Your words weave a special magic that makes me feel what you feel.
Don’t doubt yourself. As long as you write with your heart you will have loyal followers.
Congratulations on all your accomplishments. Marilina
You are such a Talented Writer! Your words weave a special magic that makes me feel what you feel.
Don’t doubt yourself. As long as you write with your heart you will have loyal followers.
Congratulations on all your accomplishments. Marilina
Felicitations! Merci encore, dear Kristi!
Felicitations! Merci encore, dear Kristi!
I’d like to read the book as you go. I have experienced your experience through my daughter. She is six years to your ten. I’m proud of her as well as you.
The memoir should be very commercial. How many American women would love to be married to a French winemaker and I know that you went through bad times so, all of that will make for a great memoir. Look how far you’ve come.
I can give you professional comments if you’d like. Only if you want me to.
Julie
I’d like to read the book as you go. I have experienced your experience through my daughter. She is six years to your ten. I’m proud of her as well as you.
The memoir should be very commercial. How many American women would love to be married to a French winemaker and I know that you went through bad times so, all of that will make for a great memoir. Look how far you’ve come.
I can give you professional comments if you’d like. Only if you want me to.
Julie
I subscribed to your newsletter to brush up on my French, but your articles and pictures have provided much more. Thank you for writing so honestly, and especially about a topic that affects so many of us. Congratulations on your accomplishment.
I subscribed to your newsletter to brush up on my French, but your articles and pictures have provided much more. Thank you for writing so honestly, and especially about a topic that affects so many of us. Congratulations on your accomplishment.
Oh, Kristin, it truly warms my heart to read about your ten-year anniversary! I have many good friends who are celebrating for the same reason you enjoy many, many more. You bring so much joy to others because of the touching , honest way that you write your blog. Who really would not absolutely and positively value what you do and the loving way that you do it!
I remain in your cheering section!
Oh, Kristin, it truly warms my heart to read about your ten-year anniversary! I have many good friends who are celebrating for the same reason you enjoy many, many more. You bring so much joy to others because of the touching , honest way that you write your blog. Who really would not absolutely and positively value what you do and the loving way that you do it!
I remain in your cheering section!
Wow, Kristin! I have been remiss in reading your most recent stories, and now I find this one–about your 10th birthday! I will have 25 years on October 7, 2013. I, like you, sometimes choose to relinquish my anonymity when there is a good reason. Mine is based on a feeling of “rightness” in the moment, and also each time that I give a presentation on FAS (fetal alcohol syndrome) as a volunteer for our local Alcohol and Drug Abuse Association. Your reason to share your story is to be celebrated. By sharing the anniversary of your sobriety, you have inspired so many of your readers! Good for you.
I will be joining my friend Pat for a week in Paris on March 11, 2013 and then we will travel south to Avignon, and then further east to Cannes and Dragignon where we’ll have a car in order to visit the little nearby villages. I must look up your location just to know if I’m near you! On April 3, my husband John will join me in Paris with plans to go the sites on the Normandy Beaches. He is a Navy Vet from the Vietnam era who volunteers with our WWII Vets at our local Veterans Home. I have studied in France before and speak french modestly. I know my skills will improve over the month+ of my visit!
Happy happy 10th Birthday! I am always reminded of how much better I feel in France and everywhere, compared to my younger days of drinking. Salut! Cheryl K. St. Louis, Missouri
Wow, Kristin! I have been remiss in reading your most recent stories, and now I find this one–about your 10th birthday! I will have 25 years on October 7, 2013. I, like you, sometimes choose to relinquish my anonymity when there is a good reason. Mine is based on a feeling of “rightness” in the moment, and also each time that I give a presentation on FAS (fetal alcohol syndrome) as a volunteer for our local Alcohol and Drug Abuse Association. Your reason to share your story is to be celebrated. By sharing the anniversary of your sobriety, you have inspired so many of your readers! Good for you.
I will be joining my friend Pat for a week in Paris on March 11, 2013 and then we will travel south to Avignon, and then further east to Cannes and Dragignon where we’ll have a car in order to visit the little nearby villages. I must look up your location just to know if I’m near you! On April 3, my husband John will join me in Paris with plans to go the sites on the Normandy Beaches. He is a Navy Vet from the Vietnam era who volunteers with our WWII Vets at our local Veterans Home. I have studied in France before and speak french modestly. I know my skills will improve over the month+ of my visit!
Happy happy 10th Birthday! I am always reminded of how much better I feel in France and everywhere, compared to my younger days of drinking. Salut! Cheryl K. St. Louis, Missouri
Thank you for sharing this most intimate story from your life! It has touched so many of us and we all have our own personal obstacles to overcome…
Wishing you many more happy and healthy years ahead!
Thank you for sharing this most intimate story from your life! It has touched so many of us and we all have our own personal obstacles to overcome…
Wishing you many more happy and healthy years ahead!
I am full of admiration for your ten years of sobriety. You mention feeling fragile but you must be strong to have accomplished this. All best wishes for easier, happy times in the future.
Ticky Simian
I am full of admiration for your ten years of sobriety. You mention feeling fragile but you must be strong to have accomplished this. All best wishes for easier, happy times in the future.
Ticky Simian
Dearest Kristin, Now it is clear to me. Reading about your mother in such glowing terms left me angry and bewildered. From what I could gather, your childhood was one of instability. Sure the wild adventures, in retrospect, are funny now that you are an adult but as the child of an alcoholic, the damage lingers a lifetime, hopefully to a much diminished degree. I do not know if your mother had a drinking problem but her eccentric behavior, while colorful, was not appropriate with mother young children. That you are so loving and forgiving of your mother is a testament to your inner strength which, for a time, must have needed to be fortified by alcohol. As for those who would say do not share this part of your life, I say, “Silence!” You are doing a better service by sharing this part of your life than any travel, food or amusing tales. You are living proof that each day you are stronger than the day before. For this, I thank you with all my heart.
Dearest Kristin, Now it is clear to me. Reading about your mother in such glowing terms left me angry and bewildered. From what I could gather, your childhood was one of instability. Sure the wild adventures, in retrospect, are funny now that you are an adult but as the child of an alcoholic, the damage lingers a lifetime, hopefully to a much diminished degree. I do not know if your mother had a drinking problem but her eccentric behavior, while colorful, was not appropriate with mother young children. That you are so loving and forgiving of your mother is a testament to your inner strength which, for a time, must have needed to be fortified by alcohol. As for those who would say do not share this part of your life, I say, “Silence!” You are doing a better service by sharing this part of your life than any travel, food or amusing tales. You are living proof that each day you are stronger than the day before. For this, I thank you with all my heart.
Maxine, one of the risks of writing is that the stories are sometimes misinterpreted. I am sorry for ever using the word eccentric, when I meant to describe my beautiful and big-hearted Mom–who never drank in our home, but was busy working to support her two daughters. I have always admired her style and her free spirit too. Far from unstable, my mom has always been a solid rock of support.
Maxine, one of the risks of writing is that the stories are sometimes misinterpreted. I am sorry for ever using the word eccentric, when I meant to describe my beautiful and big-hearted Mom–who never drank in our home, but was busy working to support her two daughters. I have always admired her style and her free spirit too. Far from unstable, my mom has always been a solid rock of support.
Kristin,
I have been reading your posts for a number of years, rarely commenting, but lurking with pleasure (and envy) in the background. The humor and enthusiasm in your posts are infectious and hearing about your French life reconnects me to my own rich, complex experience of France and the French.
Yet, I’ve sometimes thought, “Okay, enough of the breezy, light-hearted, self-deprecating tone. I want something more.” There was, despite the personal details in your writing, a certain distance, a way in which you held your full self back. Something in my reading soul wanted something rawer and deeper from your writer’s soul.
I’m not sure that I could have articulated this, but seeing this post and the ones that have followed I realize THIS is it, this is what I felt was missing–this rawness and honesty.
Please don’t take this as criticism of your prior work. That body of work has plenty of charm and beauty and has touched many lives. THIS writing, however, touches me far more deeply than anything you have written before. It is absolutely the BEST writing I have seen you do!
Please keep mining the raw truths of who you are, listening to your voice and following it wherever it leads. Do not be deterred if whatever you have to say makes someone nervous or turns them away. Your purpose as a writer is surely not to create comfort alone. Seeing what you have been writing lately tells me that–no, there is a greater purpose and gift finding expression in you. I’m not talking religion, here by the way, as I’m agnostic. I’m talking about the transformative power of art, the spirituality that breathes in listening to and giving expression to whatever is most authentic in us. Great writing can comfort, yes, but it can also rip us apart, shred our illusions and self-deception, open windows to deeper insights, push us to confront our fears and find new paths.
‘Til now, I’ve felt that I’ve been on a comfortable Sunday walk in the country with you. Sweet, fun, thoughtful, diverting. But not challenging and not really offering a deeper window into myself. Now, as you go deeper, you challenge me to go deeper, and this journey just took on bigger, wilder dimensions. I celebrate that and say, Go, woman, go! I’m with you on this journey.
I love your mother’s support of you, and I think that she is right: “Transparency is Freedom.” I would add that for the writer, transparency is power, the living waters that move writing from the realm of musing and entertainment to the realm of transformation.
Suddenly, in your writing, there is a presence I’ve never before glimpsed, a voice and consciousness that resonate in a deeper, fuller register. A spirit that both agonizes and soars, questions and finds ground. That’s it.. that’s what I felt was missing before–a ground. It felt as if in your writing, you were dancing above and around something central in your life. Now it feels as if you’ve landed–you are speaking from your ground, your center. And your tone and words come from roots anchored deep in the soil as well as from the breezy, leafy heights. Your voice is rawer, more authentic, less self-conscious, more POWERFUL. I LOVE it. I applaud you and thank you.
(And, of course, what I or anyone else feels about it is far less important than what it does for you).
Kristin,
I have been reading your posts for a number of years, rarely commenting, but lurking with pleasure (and envy) in the background. The humor and enthusiasm in your posts are infectious and hearing about your French life reconnects me to my own rich, complex experience of France and the French.
Yet, I’ve sometimes thought, “Okay, enough of the breezy, light-hearted, self-deprecating tone. I want something more.” There was, despite the personal details in your writing, a certain distance, a way in which you held your full self back. Something in my reading soul wanted something rawer and deeper from your writer’s soul.
I’m not sure that I could have articulated this, but seeing this post and the ones that have followed I realize THIS is it, this is what I felt was missing–this rawness and honesty.
Please don’t take this as criticism of your prior work. That body of work has plenty of charm and beauty and has touched many lives. THIS writing, however, touches me far more deeply than anything you have written before. It is absolutely the BEST writing I have seen you do!
Please keep mining the raw truths of who you are, listening to your voice and following it wherever it leads. Do not be deterred if whatever you have to say makes someone nervous or turns them away. Your purpose as a writer is surely not to create comfort alone. Seeing what you have been writing lately tells me that–no, there is a greater purpose and gift finding expression in you. I’m not talking religion, here by the way, as I’m agnostic. I’m talking about the transformative power of art, the spirituality that breathes in listening to and giving expression to whatever is most authentic in us. Great writing can comfort, yes, but it can also rip us apart, shred our illusions and self-deception, open windows to deeper insights, push us to confront our fears and find new paths.
‘Til now, I’ve felt that I’ve been on a comfortable Sunday walk in the country with you. Sweet, fun, thoughtful, diverting. But not challenging and not really offering a deeper window into myself. Now, as you go deeper, you challenge me to go deeper, and this journey just took on bigger, wilder dimensions. I celebrate that and say, Go, woman, go! I’m with you on this journey.
I love your mother’s support of you, and I think that she is right: “Transparency is Freedom.” I would add that for the writer, transparency is power, the living waters that move writing from the realm of musing and entertainment to the realm of transformation.
Suddenly, in your writing, there is a presence I’ve never before glimpsed, a voice and consciousness that resonate in a deeper, fuller register. A spirit that both agonizes and soars, questions and finds ground. That’s it.. that’s what I felt was missing before–a ground. It felt as if in your writing, you were dancing above and around something central in your life. Now it feels as if you’ve landed–you are speaking from your ground, your center. And your tone and words come from roots anchored deep in the soil as well as from the breezy, leafy heights. Your voice is rawer, more authentic, less self-conscious, more POWERFUL. I LOVE it. I applaud you and thank you.
(And, of course, what I or anyone else feels about it is far less important than what it does for you).
I’ve have read your blog over the years, please tell me how you tackled your issue , I have a drink problem in so much I don’t cope so self medicate I’d love to hear how you conquered it
I’ve have read your blog over the years, please tell me how you tackled your issue , I have a drink problem in so much I don’t cope so self medicate I’d love to hear how you conquered it
Hello, Helen,
I have sent you a message in your inbox.I hope you see it!
Kristi
Hello, Helen,
I have sent you a message in your inbox.I hope you see it!
Kristi
Felicitations chère Kristi, et merci pour partager ton chemin.
Bisous et Bonne continuation!
Jo
Felicitations chère Kristi, et merci pour partager ton chemin.
Bisous et Bonne continuation!
Jo
Respect!
Respect!
Dear Kristi
10 years sobriety is an amazing achievement ….. especially living in France, on a vineyard for all those years with a winemaker for a husband. It doesn’t get much tougher than that! You are an inspiration!
I have always been struck by the loyalty and support you and Jean Marc show to each other. It surely must be one of the ingredients that those rare, long and happy marriages are made of.
On a more humorous note …. giving up alcohol means there are more calories left for cake and chocolate!
Dear Kristi
10 years sobriety is an amazing achievement ….. especially living in France, on a vineyard for all those years with a winemaker for a husband. It doesn’t get much tougher than that! You are an inspiration!
I have always been struck by the loyalty and support you and Jean Marc show to each other. It surely must be one of the ingredients that those rare, long and happy marriages are made of.
On a more humorous note …. giving up alcohol means there are more calories left for cake and chocolate!
19 years..That’s absoulutly fantastic. That takes strength and fortitude! Give yourself a pat on the back. You deserve it.
19 years..That’s absoulutly fantastic. That takes strength and fortitude! Give yourself a pat on the back. You deserve it.