French Reverie

Sometimes the smallest choices remind us we're here to live, not just survive.

This Sunday, I did something small yet meaningful - I drove an hour downtown for a haircut and color. It's time consuming and costlier than a convenient visit to the hair salon in the vicinity. The practical part of me whispered, you should be saving that time and money. But another voice - quieter, softer, bolder - told me, live a little. And for once, I listened.

What struck me wasn't the haircut itself, but the feeling it stirred. For a few hours, I wasn't just showing up for work or moving through responsibilities - I was choosing to live. choosing to feel alive.

Lately, I've been inspired by two women I came across online. One is just in her twenties, radiant and bold, who made the leap to move across the pond from New York to Paris, on her own. The other is a young pastry chef who uprooted from America to Paris to lead a life of pastry-creating and vintage living with her husband in their tiny Parisian apartment. Each letting passion and artistry unfold into their lives.

Watching them, I didn't feel envy. I felt possibility. They are reminders that life can be chosen. That courage, even in small steps, can lead to a life that reflects who you are inside.

Maybe that's what the haircut really meant. A reminder that even the simplest choices can mark the beginning of bigger shifts. That living isn't about waiting for freedom to arrive - it's about creating it in small, intentional ways.