A Better Place (Continued)
July 17th was swelteringly hot, but Ariel, Mary, Gracie, and I were determined to see the most famous monument in Paris. The Eiffel Tower defines Paris. It appears on every travel brochure, seemingly every postcard, and every guidebook. It is the representation of quintessential Parisian tourism.
Of course, we had to go to the top. The lines seemed to drag on for hours, but eventually I found myself crowded onto an elevator shooting skyward. When we exited, I walked over to the edge to see the city. That was when my cell phone rang. My blood froze, and I knew immediately something was wrong.
“Lily?” My mom's voice shook. And then I really knew without her having to tell me. My 94-year-old grandmother had died. And as I looked out over Paris, a tear fell to the world below.
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