Change of Life

Kat felt her phone vibrate in her briefcase. For once she didn’t immediately grab for it; she uncharacteristically let it go to voicemail. She was in a daze. What the hell did Janine mean? I needed to ‘go back to my roots and reset my life if I wanted to have a life? I do have a life. Granted it’s full of take out boxes on the coffee table and a pillow under my desk at work, but it’s a life. I built this life on my own. I should be freakin’ proud of that. I don’t have to let her infiltrate my mind with her judgments of how I choose to live. Kat sidestepped to avoid running into an elderly man on the sidewalk. She got her bearings and took a deep breath as she sipped on her latte, feeling herself spiraling after her therapy session.

So what if Janine is somewhat right - I built a career but forgot about who I am outside of my career, that's true. Maybe I don't know what I want or what life outside the confines of downtown Chicago looks like. Kat sighed, feeling sorry for herself. Crap. I am 43. No relationship, no kids. I haven’t been on a trip in 4 years. I’ve lived in the same apartment since I was 26 because I didn’t find time to move even though I can afford something much nicer. Crap. My job is my life, my life is my job. 

She sat down on a park bench to adjust her Jimmy Choo jet black pumps. She wore heels like this every single day, but for some reason today she felt the strain they put on her feet. She often started her outfit by picking out her shoes and built from there. Like last week when she had a doctor’s appointment she had been dreading for weeks, she donned her fiery red Manolo Blahniks that always make her feel like Wonder Woman. 

She needed the confidence of those red shoes that day. It was the first day of many where she felt seeds of doubt about her life choices. Her doctor was one of the best traditional mixed with holistic doctors in the city, and she trusted her opinion. Kat was expecting to hear a glowing review and a ‘see you next year’ from Dr. Rosin, but instead she was met with an air of sympathy. 

She had told her, “Kat, everything looks okay. For now. Your blood work and tests are trending in a direction I don’t like to see though. I’m afraid you will find yourself wrapped up in autoimmunity or chronic illness if you don’t make some changes especially with the pace of your life and your stress levels. I think you should find more time for yourself. And talk to Janine about what might kickstart some changes in your life.” 

Kat really had no idea what it meant to be on the verge of chronic illness, but she didn’t want to find out. That night she had tossed the takeout and opted for a chopped salad from the diner up the street. 

Today though, she felt more lost than ever after her conversation with Janine. She wanted to make changes, but she didn’t know how. During her session, it was suggested she leave the country to get a completely new perspective. Janine said she had seen people transform their lives by visiting their ancestral trails. At first that seemed ridiculous, but then Kat thought back to when she found a faded photograph tucked inside a letter in her grandparents’ attic after they passed away. It was of a couple standing in front of a chateau, beaming at each other. The letter was addressed to her great great grandmother, and after reading it a few times it seemed that the person who sent it was her sister who, at the time, was still living in the same village where Kat’s great grandmother had grown up in Southern France. 

France does sound nice. Kat daydreamed for a minute before hailing a cab. I do have more than 300 hours of vacation time saved up, and I have now had two health professionals suggest slowing down. She searched for flights to France on the ride home. Feeling strangely impulsive, she bought one right then and there. She even opted for no insurance policy so she couldn’t back out. There. I’m going. 

Two days later, Kat slipped off her shoes in her first class seat that was more like a little apartment than the traditional elbow to elbow chairs she was used to. Granted, she hadn’t flown in 6 years, and last time was back to Virginia to see family, so the aircraft was substantially smaller. As the flight attendant handed her a mimosa she smiled, feeling confident in her decision to take this trip. She sipped on her drink, stared out the window watching the country pass by beneath her, and then drifted off to sleep. 

After a quick layover in London, she settled into the first class cabin of a much smaller jet to take her to her final stop. It wasn't as ritzy as the previous seat, but she appreciated the ample leg room. She could already feel a lightness pulsing through her just being here in Europe. After takeoff she popped in her ear buds, drifting off to a playlist of French music she had created to get her in the mood for this trip.

She woke up to the pilot letting them know it was 60 degrees and partly cloudy in Toulouse. She took off her neck pillow, slipped her ear buds out, and fixed her hair in the little mirror from her purse. Her phone was still auto-playing the music she fell asleep to six hours ago as the crew came by offering her a baguette with jam.

I could get used to this, Kat thought as she bit into the perfectly crisp crust of the bread. 

Thirty minutes later she was walking up the ramp into the airport, heading to baggage claim. She spotted her leopard print luggage right away and headed to the exit marked for ride shares. She hopped in a cab and gave the driver the address she had found on the letter in her grandparents' attic. She had no idea where she was going or what it would look like. She had no idea if the home was even still standing. She felt the yearning in her heart to go find out though. 

Kat dreamily looked out the window as the beautiful architecture floated by, slowing transitioning into bigger sections of gorgeous greenery surrounding large stone houses. The driver was slowing down as she saw the sign on the pillar with the same number as her letter. He pulled into the gate and Kat was mesmerized by the commanding yet inviting two-story home ahead of her. It had vines climbing up the front and the windows had picturesque blue shutters. The large wooden doors at the entrance had the most lively, intricate pattern carved into it she had ever seen. 

She slowly exited the car, unable to take her eyes off the house as if it had already grabbed her heart, unwilling to let go. She paid the driver and stood there in the dust of the car, smiling like she had found whatever it was she came here for. 

In the midst of her amazement she had overlooked the fact that this might be someone’s private property. She felt a pang of panic wash over her until she saw a sign next to the entrance that said ‘Toulouse Bed and Breakfast’. She immediately relaxed, the broad smile returning to her face as she opened the wooden doors. 

“Welcome to Toulouse Bed and Breakfast,” a lovely brunette woman greeted her from behind a mahogany desk that matched the front doors, “I’m Madeline, will you be staying with us?” 

“I think so,” Kat answered, suddenly questioning her sanity with all of this, but still awestruck by the magnificence of the home. 

Madeline smiled and stepped forward to help her get her bags through the door. 

“This is going to sound crazy, but I came here on a whim. I found a letter in my grandparent’s attic, and I think some of my ancestors used to live here. The Benoit Family? My doctors advised me to take a break from my fast paced life, and I spontaneously booked a trip here,” Kat spat out hoping that if she said it out loud it would sound less insane.

“Wow, what a journey,” Madeline replied with a gentle, soft laugh. She studied Kat’s face for a minute then went back behind the desk, pulling out a picture. “You do look a little bit like Amelia.”

Kat leaned in to get a closer look at the picture. It was around the same time as the one she had found back home, but this one had another woman in the photograph, standing beside who she assumed was her great great aunt. 

“Do you know who this is?” she asked Madeline, pointing to the woman on the left. “Is that Amelia?”

“Yes, yes. That’s Amelia. The one you look like. She lived here many years ago before moving to America. Her sister, Tilda, stayed behind. Tilda’s great granddaughter sold Toulouse House to me last year asking me to keep the history alive,” Madeline explained.

Kat put her hand over her mouth. That must be her great great grandmother. Her eyes were very similar to Kat’s and even the way they stood was eerily the same. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Kat fumbled with her words. “I think I’m Amelia’s great great granddaughter. I feel deeply connected to this place already, like it was speaking to me even during the trip here.”

“Please, let me show you to your room. It’s my favorite one, and it used to be Amelia’s, or at least I think it was based on the research I have done about the house,” Madeline picked up Kat’s bags and headed up the delicately carpeted wooden staircase. 

As they opened the door to the room, Kat felt a wave of comfort settle on her like a gentle hug. Her connection to this place kept getting stronger and stronger. Madeline put her suitcase down on the rack and told Kat she would be back with some coffee and pastries. 

When Madeline returned, Kat had found her way out to the balcony that overlooked the perfectly manicured rose garden. She sat the tray down on the metal table and left before she could disturb an entranced Kat. 

Kat was staring out onto the breathtaking property, feeling like a beautiful light was filling her soul. It was as if she could feel herself healing both physically and mentally already. Her life back in Chicago no longer seemed important.

This house. This history. This feeling was all that mattered.

She placed her hands on her heart and took a deep breath, letting the sensation of this moment speak to her, guide her. She knew had found the life she was meant to live.

Three months later Kat stepped out of a cab onto the familiar driveway. Madeline came out to greet her, giving her a warm hug. 

“You are going to love what the designer’s did with the west wing of the home. It is full of color and life, and the private patio that overlooks the garden. Wow. I am thrilled to have you here, and even more thrilled we get to take care of Toulouse House together.”

Kat had signed the papers selling her condo last week and immediately transferred the funds to buy half of this magnificent property.

She felt no doubt, no fear, and no hesitation. She knew in her heart she had been guided here by something greater than herself.

“I am exactly where I am meant to be,” she hugged Madeline again then confidently walked toward the rest of her simple, happy life.