We pile into our borrowed van on Sunday morning in Paris the five of us, stop for pain au chocolat and drive with the boys singing along to French songs I've never heard, all the way to an obscure little town on the West coast of France.
It's 6pm somehow when we arrive to our Airbnb somewhere near the border of Brittany and the Loire-Atlantique with the grassy backyard garden looking on to all the wetlands around us. We've got hours of golden light ahead of us though because it's the height of summer. The boys play guitar and write a song and we bathe in the sun, swing on the rickety swing and drink some rosé too and take pictures and lie in the itchy grass together.
Monday we all drive to the beach, to the côte sauvage as these French boys call it, the wild coastline. The sun is hot and the water's warm enough to swim in, the beach stretches forever, lined with the tallest red cliff face. We stay here for hours because we can't believe the weather, we get a little bit sunburnt.
Sunday we pack up and go to see and feel the ancient stone formations of the Dolmens de Kerbourg dating all the way to the Neolithic period, that's B.C. These stones are older than what we can comprehend so we lay on them and under them and try to soak up their energy for a while.
We head on to medieval town Guérande on the way back to Paris to see the walls and the churches and the little streets and to eat our last Breton crêpe. Five hours later we're back in the middle of Paris for one last drink to say goodbye for now.