Chateauroux Still Lives In Me

April 15, 2025

Châteauroux Still Lives in Me - A Memory

Châteauroux, France, still lives in me.

When we first arrived in Châteauroux, I was just a young teenager, already accustomed to moving regularly with my Air Force dad. But Châteauroux was different—the language was different. In my mind, it was an exotic place. I lived there for only two years, but the impact has lasted a lifetime. Sixty-five years later, it remains vivid in my heart.

The charm of everyday life enchanted me: the shops and boulangeries, young boys walking with unwrapped baguettes in their arms, the bicycles as transportation, the gendarmes directing traffic in their crisp uniforms, the French schoolchildren with rosy cheeks warmed by wine, the berets, the accents, the quiet resilience of a people still recovering from war. Even the base snack bar felt magical, with its hamburgers and French fries—familiar comforts in an unfamiliar world.

I remember my mother getting her new French driver’s license and bravely taking the wheel in our new home. She was determined—probably a little nervous at first—but steady and composed as she learned her way around a new place. One scene replays itself in my mind: a gendarme standing in Place de la République, standing proudly on a white tambour, orchestrating traffic with white gloved hands. At first, he seemed like part of a movie scene. Before long, he simply belonged to the backdrop of our daily life—both foreign and reassuring.

This is Mom's French Driving Permit

Audrey Witherington, french driver.

That memory has never left me. It’s more than a passing image—it’s a feeling of transition, of arrival, of watching my mother meet the moment with quiet courage. Châteauroux still lives in me in scenes like this—not just as a place I once lived, but as a part of who I became.

We were a one car family.  Many days she  would drive my dad to work and keep the car for herself to drive. Then she would pick him up again at the end of his work day.

This is AI doing it's best to recreate the memory of driving by the Place de la Republique where the gendarme would be directing traffic.  An actual photgraph of my mom driving her three kids doesn't exist, but it was fun trying to get the simulation. It made me smile.

Still curious. Still growing. Still Grateful.

Janis