I had a ticket. I had my passport. And he had cold feet. I might have known fairy tales don't come true. Seven months out of my marriage, I had met the "great love of my life." We dated a year. I'd always longed to see Europe, and, with my divorce final, we planned the trip together. Then two weeks before takeoff, he took off. Having piggybacked two breakups, I felt as if I'd been through a double divorce. Here I was, thirty-nine years old, with two small children, and facing my ultimate fear: a life alone. Was I ready to spend a month in Europe by myself? I had a hard time going to a movie alone! But it did seem now or never. The kids would be with their dad, the money came as part of my property settlement, and I had a job waiting when I returned. Okay, if I was going to be lonely for the next few years, I might as well start by being lonely in Europe.

The highlight of my journey was to be Paris, the city I'd always wanted to see. But now I was frightened to travel without a companion. I steeled myself and went anyway. I arrived at the train station in Paris panicked and disoriented. I hadn't used my college French in twenty years. Pulling my red suitcase on wobbly wheels behind me, I was shoved and pushed by perspiring¹ travelers reeking² of cigarette smoke, different diets and not nearly enough deodorant³. The roar of many languages bombarding me seemed unintelligible⁴, just babble⁵. On my first Metro⁶ ride, I encountered an incompetent⁷, clumsy pickpocket⁸. I melted him with a look, and he eased his hand from my purse to fade into the crowded car. At my stop, I hauled my heavy suitcase up the steep stairs and froze. Cars zoomed⁹ helter skelter, honking¹⁰ belligerently¹¹. Somewhere in this confusing city my hotel was hidden, but the directions I had scrawled¹² suddenly weren't legible. I stopped two people. Both greeted me with that Parisian countenance¹³ that said: "Yes, I speak English, but you'll have to struggle with your French if you want to talk to me." I walked up one street and across another. A wheel broke off my suitcase. When I finally found the hotel, my heart was pounding, I was sweating like a basketball player and my spirits drooped¹⁴. They flattened¹⁵ altogether when I saw my room. I couldn't stay. Could I? The wallpaper looked like it had been through a fire. The bedsprings creaked. The bathroom was down the hall, and the window looked out onto the brick wall of another building. Welcome to Paris. I sincerely wanted to die. I missed my friend. I was entering my third week away from home and my kids, and I had arrived in the most romantic city in the world, alone. Alone and lonely. Alone, lonely and petrified¹⁶.

The most important thing I did in Paris happened at that moment. I knew that if I didn't go out, right then, and find a place to have dinner, I would hide in this cubicle¹⁷ my entire time in Paris. My dream would be foregone, and I might never learn to enjoy the world as a single individual. So I pulled myself together and went out. Evening in Paris was light and balmy. When I reached the Tuileries, I strolled along a winding¹⁸ path, listening to birds sing, watching children float toy sailboats in a huge fountain. No one seemed to be in a hurry. Paris was beautiful. And I was here alone but suddenly not lonely. My sense of accomplishment¹⁹ at overcoming my fear and vulnerability had left me feeling free, not abandoned. I wore out two pairs of shoes during my week's stay in Paris. I did everything there was to do, and it was the greatest week of my European vacation. I returned home a believer in the healing power of solitary²⁰ travel. Years later, I still urge divorcing or widowed friends to take their solo flight in the form of travel plans. Those who have gone have returned changed; even by a four-day weekend in Santa Fe, an Amtrak ride up the coast or an organized tour of Civil War battlefields. Traveling alone redeems²¹ itself by demanding self-reliance and building the kind of confidence that serves the single life well. Certainly Paris became my metaphor²² for addressing life's challenges on my own. Now when I meet an obstacle I just say to myself, If 1 can go to Paris, 1 can go anywhere.