As I was tramping my way to the bank to get my account opened, my mother shared her latest article with me, ‘The Empty Nest Story’. My feet froze and I opened the article. As I read through, standing at the crossing, I missed several signals and sensed the passersby glare for coming in their way. A tear rolled down. I could not believe I was losing control on my emotions in the middle of a Paris street!  

It had been a difficult morning. The breakfast was a mess (with overcooked tea and undercooked eggs), some clothes had run color in the washing machine, the garbage situation needed addressing and the calls from the bank and the wifi company did not relent. It was a week since one had been in a new city and the euphoria of a tourist was giving way to the challenges of a new resident…