Montreal, landing back to where I am from

July 22, 2010

It’s midnight.

The owl sang. My mom has a bird clock. Every hour a different bird sings to mark the passage of time. At midnight it’s the owl. Just had a bath. It is almost strange to be in an known place, with known faces, have home made breakfast, lunch and dinner and be able to talk about shared stories and history. It was also strange not to put hundreds of miles behind me, to just stick around.

Montreal. I arrived Monday, mid afternoon. Montreal is for me a place of ambivalence. I left 21 years ago with a strong desire to be gone. Never felt at home here, never fit in, never found a place where I belonged or could put roots in without wilting. It is also a place of great vibrancy, creativity, artistry and energy. It is a place I came back to from time to time to be wowed and also to be crushed like a meaningless bug.

I am at my mom’s home. Mom is doing better. Last time I saw her she had just been through the harrowing experience of getting a full knee replacement and it had hurt to see her so fragile, reduced and almost transparent. She is doing much better now, stronger, more like herself, she stands tall. I love her. We’ve had our differences, our fights. But the more I go the more I see a lot of what is in me in her. What I thought would be frowned upon and deemed crazy, she gets it. My wish for her is that she would not have so many regrets as she is and has been formidable in her life. The strength she showed, the three jobs to raise us decently, the sacrifices, the hopes she had for a certain kind of life that were reduced to rubble by the happening of life.

Choices, roads and paths. We pick a direction, east, north, west, south and cross our fingers hoping the scenery will be rewarding, the adventures aplenty and the wishes for love realized. Then life unfolds, the cards are distributed and we tense up or try not to grin too wide

Tomorrow I’ll see one of my favorite people in this universe. Eva, she’s it. She is bright, brave, bold, generous to no end, hard working, a good cook, an amazing gardener, She is gentle as a breeze, strong as an oak, always there. Steady. Loving. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to tell her some tales, show her the bike, look in her eyes and be granted one more chance to see them up close. She too is formidable.

I am here, was from here, now I am from somewhere else, I speak another tongue. I have an accent. I search my words and am moved by the music of the french conversations in the cafes and on the street. I am repulsed by the some phrases, memories and attitudes.

Ambivalence, duality.

I am going gingerly, small steps. I contacted a few people today, via Facebook which gives me another small delay, time to get ready.

Be true. Just be true.


2 Responses to “Montreal, landing back to where I am from”

  1. David Walker Says:

    I guess we can never go home but we can visit what it is now and see it through new eyes, maybe.

    Cherish your deepening relationship with your mother .

  2. Erika Says:

    Time is short. I agree with David’s wisdom 🙂 Enjoy your family, friends and Montreal in all its uniqueness.


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