A Love letter to the Eiffel Tower in Paris

Dear Eiffel Tower,

The night was pitch black the first time we met. I had waited for this moment for what felt like a lifetime, but as I stood there, staring up at you, an unsettling realization crept in. My inner twelve-year-old—the one who had spent years dreaming of this encounter—was on the verge of devastation and about to throw a massive fit.

Yes, you were tall. Yes, you were sparkling with all those lights, just as I had imagined. But where was the magic? Where was the breath-stealing, heart-racing, life-altering moment I had been promised by books, by films, by love stories whispered through time? You were beautiful, but you didn’t move me. And that, more than anything, was unbearable. I wanted more from you. I expected more.

I left that night disillusioned, telling myself that perhaps you needed a second chance. So we returned the next day, clinging to the hope that daylight would reveal something I had missed. That maybe, just maybe, you would finally sweep me off my feet. But you didn’t. Instead, a storm loomed above you, dark and unrelenting, as if nature itself was warning me to give up on my expectations. The wind howled, the sky threatened, and I stood before you feeling puzzled, underwhelmed, and maybe even a little heartbroken. Even in the photos we took that day, my forced smile couldn't hide its dismay—I had waited my whole life for you, and you had let me down.

So, I tried to forget you. We went about our days, checking off every item from our jam-packed itinerary—one I had meticulously planned in my head for decades. I buried myself in the rhythm of Paris, in the charm of its cobbled streets, in the intoxication of pastries, boutiques, and candlelit dinners. I collected memories, real and tangible, each moment filling me with warmth. And yet, despite everything, despite my best efforts to move on, I couldn’t shake the gnawing emptiness inside me.

At the end of each day, as I lay in our hotel room, I still found myself yearning for the dream. It was like a stubborn piece of gum stuck to my favorite shoe or that scratchy feeling in my throat right before a full-blown flu. I wanted to see you. No, I needed to see you again. At least one last time before we flew back home.

And so, my ever-patient husband—who, I suspect, shared my quiet disappointment—agreed to a final visit. A last attempt to find the magic I had longed for. And hoping that maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to redeem yourself.

You hadn’t changed. You stood there exactly as before—unchanged, unmoved, indifferent to my longing. But as I lay on the grass, leaning into my husband, something unexpected happened. In that random, quiet moment, something shifted within me.

To your right, by the old merry-go-round, an engagement photoshoot was unfolding. A couple, young and glowing with love, fumbled through their poses, their laughter ringing through the air. The photographer, barely masking his impatience, clicked away while onlookers—children eager for their turn on the ride—watched in fascination. It was a moment of chaos, imperfect and raw. And yet, in that very imperfection, I saw something breathtaking. The couple’s smiles were not just smiles. They were unspoken vows, whispered promises of forever. 

And suddenly, I understood. It had never been about you. I had spent years believing that you, you, were supposed to make me feel something extraordinary. But in reality, it was never about a tower of iron and lights and in that moment of realization, you showed me that inherent magic in all its gloriousness. It was about who I was with, about love, about the feeling of being exactly where I was meant to be. You were magnificent. You became everything I have imagined you to be and more: the Eiffel Tower I have always dreamed of seeing since I was twelve.

You, the Dame de Fer, once despised, ridiculed, considered an eyesore by the public. You, standing resolute, towering over a city that had learned to love you despite your imperfections. You, who had not changed at all. Only my heart had. You were everything I had imagined and more.

So I guess it all boils down to perspective.

My husband turned to me, his voice laced with amusement. “Happy?”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill, words lost in the weight of the moment.

“Good. Now, get up. We need to take some nice photos before we go home.”

And so, this will be the story I tell—the time I finally saw the Eiffel Tower. Not just with my eyes, but with my heart. Thank you for the memories. :)