I can remember the sweet naïve smile of the young waitress as she looked at Nancy and I. A bright eyed young waiter was just off her left shoulder. They listened to our stories of America, and told us about their dreams of going.
We were in a little café just off the Rue de Monttessuy. Nancy had ordered a beautiful powder blue jacket at a small shop on Rue Cler, and we were headed back to our apartment on Rue Juge. Then the squall came, and we ran to find shelter in this petite Italian café.
I remember seeing in their eyes the excitement of what was to come . . the hopes and the dreams. All that gives life so much meaning.
We stayed and talked for hours. Then, the rain stopped.
Nancy and I walked across the Champ de Mar. The Eiffel Tower was never more beautiful, enshrouded in the mist from the morning rain shower.