Paris, Pause, Repeat

Not every escape needs to be dramatic. Sometimes, noticing the small moments is enough.

I just returned from Paris, like yesterday, but this year, this trip didn’t have the usual pull. I am usually super excited. And while it did feel like a bright marker on the calendar, something to pull me forward, I was, of course, excited about the getaway days before I left. But this time, it felt quieter.

I still made lists. I’m an editor and a mother; that part is automatic. Where to eat, what neighborhoods I wanted to walk, and small things I didn’t want to forget. But even as I wrote them down, I noticed something was different. The familiar pull wasn’t there. What I was really looking forward to wasn’t Paris itself, but the break. The idea of stepping away while still somehow holding everything together.

The months leading up to the trip were heavy. Not one dramatic crisis, just the steady accumulation of decisions, emotions, logistics, and worry. Mostly for my family, especially my sisters, as the loss we experienced in 2025 continued right into 2026 (which, at only a month in, has already been like, wtf). This is the kind of weight that lives in your shoulders and only shows up when you finally stop moving. Leaving felt complicated, like an absence I shouldn’t take. But I knew I needed a break. I needed to exhale. So I packed the guilt right alongside the charger and a few fits that needed to get out of my closet.

A close mom friend joined me for a few days, someone who has also experienced loss recently. We’re part of a baby-mom group (yes, Ashley, moms can be complicated, but they are human too, just trying to get through life, and sometimes the mom group actually lasts, thorns and all). My friend booked her trip the moment I mentioned I was going, which was smart because I wasn’t in planning mode. She’s also a wizard with Apple Maps, hopping on the Paris metro and guiding us with full witchy navigation confidence. I also highly recommend traveling with a private chef, you’ll see a whole new side of that country’s food offerings. And when there was space, we talked the way mothers do. Honestly. Calmly. Without trying to fix anything. No big breakthroughs. Just recognition.

Halfway in, I got sick. Not enough to derail everything, just enough to slow down. Enough to cancel plans that felt complicated. And honestly, it felt less like bad timing and more like my body stepping in to declare bullshit: time for a hard stop. You can rest now, it seemed to say- stay in bed, in Paris(!)- eat that ridiculously large hot dog from the limited menu and binge-watch some Netflix.

Thankfully, my French head cold (as the barista at the hotel called it, ha ha) was manageable but grounding enough to realize, I’m here. Not in the postcard version of Paris, but in the real, unexpected one. I met my boss for breakfast -she was also in town, and I’m not an idiot, I know you meet your boss when both are in Paris, and we had a fun time trying to understand the Las Vegas meets Paris vibe of the hotel we dined at. Two ginger shots later, I took a brisk walk through the Jardin des Tuileries; this spot never disappoints. I’m so obsessed with this place. No rushing. I popped into the Louvre(No strike this day!), saw an exhibit, and left when I felt done. No reservations. Just spending a day being.

Somewhere between the walking, the eating, and sitting in the winter sun(there was sunshine this trip!), things began to settle. It felt okay to be away. Okay to pause. Okay to focus, for a moment, on what was right in front of me instead of everything waiting back home.

The trip didn’t solve anything big. It didn’t reset my life or magically make the hard parts lighter. And I think that’s the point. Not every trip is meant to change you. Sometimes it’s just moments that matter. The ones that quietly recharge you, remind you what you appreciate.

Not because the hard parts of motherhood disappeared. But because rest doesn’t require everything to be resolved. And for mothers especially, that might be the hardest lesson of all.

Photo, Alex Ray, Pexels