Life Just Kept Moving It Further Down the List

But the first time I walked into my freshman French classroom, something clicked.

I loved the sound of the language.

The rhythm.

The challenge.

The idea that another way of thinking existed, and I wanted to understand it.

And just like that, I decided I wanted to become fluent.

That was the easy part.

Giving it the time and attention it deserved turned out to be much harder.

Life had other plans.

Early motherhood.

College.

Becoming a CPA.

Getting remarried.

Raising a family.

Moving more times than I can count.

Building a career.

The ordinary things that fill a very good life.

The thing is, my desire never went away.

Life just kept moving it further down the list.

Every few years, I'd find my way back to it.

I'd buy another program.

Listen to Pimsleur in the car.

Practice while traveling.

Convince myself that this time it would stick.

It never really did.

I know more French today than I did when I was in high school.

But when I randomly run into someone whose first language is French, somehow all the words I know disappear. I stumble and stammer, and only remember the basics. "Je parle un peu français." (I speak a little French)

I hesitate, and my confidence disappears as does my vocabulary.

Has that ever happened to you? You study, you practice, you sound great when no one is around, but when it counts, you go blank?

However, when I actually travel to France, I am more prepared, and I do better, but it only lasts for the trip; I go back to ground zero when I come home, and then I don't practice again until I have a reason.

Like another trip.

Now I believe what I've really needed wasn't another app or another audio program. It was immersion.

A few months ago, my career took a turn I didn't choose and didn't see coming.

Looking back, I can also see what it gave me.

A window.

An opportunity.

An invitation to be intentional with my time.

Not forever.

Just long enough to ask myself a simple question.

What if I stopped trying to teach myself French... and actually immersed myself in it?

So I started researching language schools.

The more I looked, the more I realized I wasn't chasing a new idea.

I was finally giving an old dream a real chance.

In October, I'll walk into a classroom in Montpellier.

Will I be fluent when I return?

Time will tell.

Will I make mistakes?

Bien sûr. (of course)

Will it all have been worth it?

Absolument! (Absolutely)

But for the first time, I'll be giving this dream something I've never given it before.

My full attention.

And that feels worth finding out.

Maybe that's what happens as we get older.

We become more aware that time isn't just something we have.

It's something we spend.

And whether it's learning a language...

Taking piano lessons...

Writing the book...

Or picking up a paintbrush again...

Some dreams deserve more than another promise of "someday."

They deserve a real chance.

That's what France is for me.

Not an escape.

Not a vacation.

A chance.

And after forty-five years...

I think it's about time.

P.S. If you've got a version of this — something you've quietly wanted for forty-five years, or four — I'd love to hear about it.

Book a Clarity Call.