A year ago today, I was heading towards a new adventure. I was on my way from Montreal to Dubai, this time for good. Yes, it's been a year, and it feels like it was only yesterday.
Where have the days gone? The year has gone by in a blur.
I vaguely remember my last week in Montreal:
Boxes, boxes and more boxes. The invaluable help of my dear friend Chazoo, without whom I could never have gotten my appartment cleared out in time.
Farewell drinks at GoGo lounge (I miss that place) with people I had known for several years, and others I had known for just a few months.
A lunch with my dear colleagues whom I had grown extremely attached to. I miss chit-chatting and laughing with them.
A week spent at my best friend Ned's place (because I had sold everything, including my bed). Her family is my second family. I remember how she and my other good friend Jones dropped me off at the airport, and how it still hadn't hit me that I was leaving for good. I could not cry. I didn't realise that I was leaving after 10 years in Monty. But then, when I was all alone, waiting for my flight to board, I decided to open up the card Ned had given me. And then I couldn't stop. The tears kept flowing. I just wanted to go back in time. Go back to my old life. Go back to my lovely apartment on De la Montagne. Go back to hug my poor cat Shrimpie, who was now in the unfamiliar yet loving home of my dear friend H.
But I couldn't. It was too late. A chapter had ended. A whole book had ended. A new story was about to begin. New place. New friends. New job. New car. New furniture. New roads. New apartment.