the big red scarf in Paris

At 2:30 in the morning when David has been puttering and fussing and screaming in the little room he shares with me and John while we try to keep him quiet so Mom and Rose on the livingroom fold-out can sleep off the airplane exhaustion, I knot it around my neck. Then David supported, resting on my hip, is calm. Mom thrusts the flashlight at me, and I go walking the streets of Paris with my baby in my arms. I feel balanced, calm. We walk down rue Rambuteau. A café is just closing. David watches the man mopping and says, “La la, la la.” I offer him some water. A corner store is open. Gay couples stroll by. A man stops me to admire David and stroke his cheek. We have a conversation in my out-of-practice-middle-of-the-night-just-got-here French. “Il ne dors pas? Non, il ne dors pas; donc, je ne dors pas aussi.” I hitch the scarf a little tighter and wander down rue des Archives. Everything is well lit, peaceful. I see one man sleeping in doorway. I don’t get lost. I manage the door code, the two keys, the light switch because I have two hands, because David is nestled in.

The line for the Eiffel Tower is relatively short, so we go through the security checkpoint and start inching down the cattle car barriers; short means 45 minutes instead of 2 hours. Rose and Miriam turn the scarf into a skirt for two, then a dress, then a blanket. They are giggling like crazy. We take photos. Japanese tourists take photos. They have fifteen minutes of delight. Then the temper tantrums hit. The scarf can only do so much.

On the 9:30 p.m. walk when my sister and I dump David in the stroller and go looking for the Monoprix for staples like babybell cheese, I wrap it around my neck, soft and comforting. At 11:00 when we have not found the Monoprix because we went the wrong way on the main drag and then went the wrong way again, I wrap it around my head as well.

Walking across the Seine, I try to copy the French women, drape it around my neck with a little dip and swirl. It’s too long and bright red. Never mind, I am a la mode.