It was a cold December night. I was wearing my favorite new boots and my warmest, fresh out of the magazines, navy trench coat. I had just gotten home from a long day at the office, after my nightly stop at Starbuck’s of course. Since I graduated from the college in New York that I had dreamed of since I was a little girl, I got a job in a major New York City fashion company, writing style articles for their monthly magazine. My apartment looks over the city and I watch the light shows on the buildings every night during the Christmas season while drinking my peppermint mocha latte. Sounds pretty great, I know. However, my life hasn’t been a smooth wave. I struggled with bullying my entire life and I still live pretty much as my lonely self. The money I earn is great but without a social life, I have a good amount trapped in my account waiting to escape. One part of my childhood that will always remain the best was having my grandmother, Rose Small, in my life. She died during my senior year in college and I still feel like I didn’t properly say goodbye. I couldn’t take the pain so I decided to move out, get my own dwelling and peruse my dreams of literature and fashion. Partly because I needed to, and partly because in my mind I kept thinking, “what would Grandma Rosie do?”
Continuously, I walked up the stairs to my floor and opened up my door. It was always getting stuck. First, I heard the click of the door. Then, I heard the ding of my email telling me I had new mail. Every night I get home, bathe, and drink my latte then go to sleep. I check my emails in the morning before work being that they are all from my boss with new assignments. I like to keep my evenings stress free and easy, but that particular night I checked what the email said. I put down my bags, sat at my desk and opened my inbox. There were two unread emails; one from Judith, my boss, and one from a mysterious man; Andy14@email


Hi Noel,
I recently moved into my apartment in Paris and in my room, note, this was my first time entering my home as its owner, there was a box. I knew I had not brought anything with me yet and there was an, unknown to me, email address written on the box along with the words “do not ship me. –RS.” Since this is not mine and I don’t know whose it is, I decided to email the address (you reading this). I assume you lived here before so if you intend to pick it up, you may drop in anytime.
Thanks,
Andy
p.s. There was a letter attached that said “ship me” so I put it in the mail and you, I assume, should be receiving it soon.
Now, normally I would be very scared and want nothing to do with this but today in the mail I had received a small pink envelope that I hadn’t opened yet. However, I didn’t dare respond. With this I decided now would probably be a good time to open my letter. I sauntered over to my kitchen island and hastily picked up the envelope. I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting but what I found was surely unpredictable. I pulled out the note and read it to myself.
Go. –RS
That was all it said. Go. I assumed that “Go” meant to Paris to pick up “my” box.
“Hah! I’m not falling for this.” I said out loud to myself and tossed it in the trash, along with a supposedly real plane ticket that came along with it.
I was halfway to my room when I stopped. My grandmother had in the last years of her life lived in Paris. My grandmothers first name was Rose, last name Small, initials RS. I gasped aloud. I ran back to my kitchen and ripped through my trashcan like a typical New York homeless man, to find my precious note and ticket from my beloved grandmother. This made me very nervous, but also excited. When I get nervous I am a turtle in its shell. When I am excited I have a latte, or pretty much, with every emotion comes a latte. So after my excitingly out of the ordinary day, I took to my room and went into slumber with my favorite drink on my matching night table, for according to my ticket, I had a long trip the next day.

The next day, my alarm clock went off at my normal hour. However, today I was getting on a plane to retrieve my Grandmother’s box that she had forgotten. I eventually got out of bed and made a quick trip to Starbucks, I need to wake up somehow. After ordering “the usual,” my hot cocoa with precisely five marshmallows, and saying a quick hello to my friend Sarah, who also works there (and just happens to slip me a one dollar off coupon every morning), I hopped into a taxi, with my new pink polka dot rain boots no doubt, and was off to the airport. Upon arrival my nerves kicked in again, so I hurriedly went to baggage drop off and almost got questioned by the airport security, in security just my luck. I strolled, latte in hand, through the airport to terminal 13B, thankfully passing another Starbucks on the way, and was ready for a remarkable journey.
* * *

“Thank you for flying with us, and welcome to Paris!” was the only thing I remember hearing on that entire plane ride. I cannot stay awake in a moving vehicle, especially an airplane. I was really hoping that Andy would remember to come get me at the airport. I didn’t want the day to end up like that one time with Grandma Rosie. One day when I was twelve, Grandma was supposed to pick me up from school. I love her, but she was quite forgetful. She forgot to pick me up and I stood outside the building in the rain for two hours! I did not want a repeat of that.

I walked outside the airport to the car pick up and was in awe at the sights that I saw. I had never been out of the country so this was remarkable anyways. The temperature was perfect with a slight breeze and with every couple of minutes, made the lush trees wave to me. And then I saw him. His dark brown hair and golden-tanned skin dazzled in the sunlight. He had on a Parsons University t-shirt; very ironic considering that is where I attended. He waved me over and I waved back as I trotted over to his European car.
“I see you arrived safely” he said adjusting his sunglasses. “I have the box in the car; I can get it for you now if you want.”
“Thank you. I mean no thank you. I am starving; care to get a bite to eat first?” For some reason, I didn’t want to take the box for I thought it would be over too soon.
“Sure I know of a spectacular pizzeria just minutes from here! You look like your Grandmother you know.”
“She was a wonderful person, thank you.” I said this with a confidence I normally could not find within me; Andy was bringing out a new side and emotion in me. After we chatted for a moment, I slid into his vehicle and we were off to the pizza place.
* * *
“A small cheese, a sweet latte and a Pepsi; you’re order will arrive shortly. Thank you!” exclaimed our waiter in his charming accent.

I had brought in the box with me, figuring while waiting for our food would be a good time to open it and look through it together. I slowly and carefully undid the tape enclosing the box and peeped inside. Andy looked over my shoulder as to what was locked up in this mysterious box. Inside were two tickets to the Paris Fashion Week V.I.P showcase and a special note sprayed with my Grandmother’s perfume and tied in a pink bow. My Grandmother knew how much I had dreamed of going to that show.
“She must have known you would come!” reasoned Andy.
My face must have been glowing in that moment; “She knew me very, very well. I’m going to go outside and read this note. I’ll be right back.”
* * *

Andy and I went to the Paris Fashion Week V.I.P showcase together one month after I had arrived in Paris. Since that day we had lunch together, we have spent every moment in each other’s company. I am not exactly sure how Grandma Rosie knew, but when I saw Andy that first day, I knew that even though she was not with us, she knew we were meant to be together and that I would never leave Paris. That is exactly what I did. Andy proposed below the Eiffel tower after we ate at the same little pizzeria the first day we met. Grandma Rosie introduced me to my soul mate. I knew my Grandmother was the most special person in my life, but I never thought she would change my life forever.