Irony

My mother is a French major, who has never been to France.
She had every intention of packing her bags & getting to where she thought she needed to be. But January changed her mind. She met a man with blue eyes & blonde hair, with working boots & blue jeans. They fell in love faster than the seasons could change, & became best friends. She started skipping class just to watch him work in the shop that used to be one town over. They spent everyday together, in a little town she never meant to grow her roots in. So when the time came for her to run off to France, she stayed. He loved her, his crimson haired all American girl, with Parisian blood pumping through her veins. And she loved him, so much. So much, that loving him then & forever seemed so much more of an adventure than a suitcase & a passport could've given her. She chose him.
They got married that fall, and my sister came along two years after.
 & I followed her, a brown eyed girl my mother named Madeleine, who cannot speak a lick of French.