We came. We saw. We’re tired.

By Cass

The Hagans descended upon Paris Wednesday morning, having landed safe and sound in the pre-dawn hours. The entire trip was truly as perfect as it possibly could have been – I never even dared hope for such a stress-free, nea, pleasant journey with two first-time flyer sons and cats. However, it didn’t start out as promising.

Despite being tackled and pilled by three adults on Tuesday morning, our younger cat Gracie HOWLED the ENTIRE drive from Lynchburg to Dulles. She has a ferocious heart, even when stoned. It appeared we’d have to put her in the cargo hold, but there wasn't a peep during the flight.

From the Hertz attendant who insisted on driving us to the terminal himself so we wouldn't have to unload and schlep 6 pieces of luggage plus 2 cat carriers and 4 carry-ons...to the TSA staff who shepherded us – cats in our arms – through the brand new security area at Dulles...to the Air France crew who fairly adopted us – as well as Sid's Turkish seatmate who adopted the cats...and the driver who met our traveling circus at the airport...everything went without a hitch. Kian and Niall did just fine on the flight and even tried some new food, finding that mango and steak aren't so bad after all. They’re beginning to bloom already!

After an initial grocery run and morning nap, all were well. Sid and I enjoyed dinner at the neighborhood brasserie, and we brought Subway sandwiches home for the guys.

After an exhausting week and a half of packing, purging and getting the house ready for sale, it was a far more successful transport than expected. I went back to work on Thursday, anxious to get back on track and into a routine. But, after living and working for so long by myself in Paris, it was far from my routine to return home that first day to a home full of family, flowers, and food on the table. Sid did a great job taking the guys to the store for their first trip, fumbling with new grocery products and an unfamiliar kitchen set-up.

We met my good friend Sabine for dinner at her home Friday night, staying out past 1 a.m. And Saturday brought a deliciously late morning for us all, the guys not waking until after 10 a.m. My “Bloom Where You’re Planted” book explains that one of the symptoms of culture shock is a need for excessive sleep. What a relief. I thought I was just getting old.