Seventeen years

It was 17 years ago, almost to the day, that I arrived at a sprawling pink apartment near Place Wilson in Dijon and met the family with whom I would live during my semester in France. Although they called me their "quatrième americanne", as I was the fourth American student they had hosted, by the time I left in June, I felt a bit like their "sixième enfant", their sixth child.

I returned to that apartment yesterday (bringing my family with me instead of beaucoup de baggage), and in many ways, it left like nothing had changed. Denys and Christine were as warm and welcoming as they were that first night in 1993; their apartment still had the magnificent floor to ceiling windows throughout; they served delicious gâteau au chocolat and champagne; they looked like they had not aged at all; their French was wonderfully clear and articulate and so easy to understand.

But a few things had changed. The little grandchild I knew who came regularly to visit was not a wobbly 3-year-old toddler, but instead a tall (very tall) university student staying in the room I still think of as "my room". Denys and Christine now have 21 grandchildren living throughout France. Denys is now happily retired. They travel often to visit their children and grandchildren. They no longer host foreign students.

They had some funny and poignant and interesting stories about the foreign students who have lived in "my room" over the years, though. All told, they welcomed about eight students from my university, and another half dozen or so later from the business school in Dijon. Among the more memorable were "the vegan" (VEGAN! the way they said it was as if they could maybe see why someone would choose to not eat meat, but they could never, ever understand how someone could forego French cheese) and the student from New York City who arrived days before the Sept. 11 attacks and could not reach her family for more than 48 hours.

The time with them passed so quickly. Katie and Livie and Jack felt quite at home, as Denys immediately showed them to the playroom where many fabulous toys (loved by all those grandchildren) awaited them. When the time came to have cake, the kids were SO well-behaved and sweet (whew!). Jack and Christine talked a bit and Christine was impressed that Jack spoke French without an accent. They offered to babysit any time, and later said that although they hoped no one fell ill, if someone did we should call as they had not one but TWO sons-in-law who were doctors in nearby towns. Two of their daughters (and about 10 grandchildren) live within 15 or 20 minutes of me, and although they are out of town this week (for the school holiday), we are planning to get together soon after their return. We invited them to come for a snack or a meal at our village house soon, too.

On the way home, I thought a lot about the role of luck in shaping life's experiences. What if I had ended up with another family? How would it have changed my whole experience? If Denys and Christine hadn't introduced me to all of the beauty of Burgundy, would we have been as eager to return for this trip? I guess all we can know is that it was a good day, 17 years ago, when I first came to Denys and Christine's. And it was a good day, Sunday, to come back.