I’ve always dreamed of going to Paris, France. Walking along the River Seine and having lunch by the Eiffel Tower. Wanting desperately to see the beauty that only Paris could give. After much consideration, my friends and I decided this would be the best summer vacation. We planned it out, packed our bags, and left at five o’clock in the morning. All we could think about was our end destination. Paris……Idaho.
My little black car slowly rolled into Paris. I parked the car as we pulled the classic tourist move and took pictures by the sign “Welcome to Paris, Idaho.” Kirsten went first then Megan then me. Each of us laughing as we realized how crazy the locals probably thought we were. Our next stop was at the gas station. We consulted the man behind the counter about all the highlights of Paris. Quickly moving on to our next adventure, we toured the tabernacle, visited the tiny museum, and even made time to take the epic journey out to the ice caves.
I have to admit Paris was small enough that you could drive through the town in a single breath. Yet there was something special about this miniscule town that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It all became clear to me when we were walking down main street staring into the old, rundown, broken buildings. At first we were just being silly, taking picture after picture. Soon Kirsten exclaimed “Amy stand there it’s so beautiful!” I tried not to look at her like she was crazy as I stood in front of a wooden door with flecks of blue paint hanging on for dear life. She then turned to Megan and had her pose in front of a brick wall and for the longest time all I could hear was Kirsten’s oohs and ahs and the flap of the shutter trying to keep up with her finger pushing the button. I stood there watching Kirsten run around when it hit me; she saw the inner elegance of the little town. She didn’t just see buildings, she saw stories. Stories from the past, present and the future. She saw the history and the life of a small town. She saw the inner beauty that only Paris, Idaho could give.
“Oh just one more picture,” Kirsten kept repeating, but who could blame her? She found that Paris, France in all its elegance had a hard time competing with the charm and character of the small town of Paris, Idaho. You don’t have to travel thousands of miles to find beauty, you just need to open your eyes to what is right in your own backyard. Beauty isn’t perfection, but rather is imperfection that you come to see perfectly. As we drove home down the twisting road I couldn’t help but smile. Smile at the thought that I had found beauty in the most unexpected place. Paris….Idaho.
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