And so it ends

Just like that...

No, not just like that, but I had felt the distance growing.
Since our conversation a few weeks back in Toronto, at the end of his visit. He's really into anal, I'm not. I said I can do it, but I have to be ready and prepared... as I'm nervous. But since then he's been having doubts. Messages would go whole day without a reply, articles I shared before about relationship and love (which would trigger immediate responses), would be read and not replied to.

He's so sweet, and caring... but I guess the growing distance revealed his real self (or his insecurity and doubts (to give him the benefit of the doubt) after the end of a long 7yr relationship...?). Is sex really that important? He said he was not fulfilled emotionally in the old relationship, they had become roomates living a routine life and lacked excitement... With me, at least I thought, there was something special, magical, passionate and romantic. So I thought.

IT comes. It goes. It begins. And before you know it , it ends.

Who knew, it would end the night before a big lecture when I am so ill prepared still?

Hospital scene

I saw mum, dressed in that pink hospital gown, sitting in bed smiling. She was surrounded by teddy bears, by pictures, paintings. It was a colourful and cheery decor.

"Not, it cannot be", I heard myself saying to myself... it cannot be.

The next moment, all these family members appeared and surrounded her bed.

"It cannot be..." I heard myself in my head.. "You died already..."

She approached, her arm thin and dry and with various tubes connected to it. I held her hands with mine. The touch of her hands were "This cannot be... you already left..."

But it felt so real, as if she died again and again and came back again and again before me.

Mother's Day

A day to remember mums all over the world. I woke up to various posts by friends expressing their love and gratitude to their mums on Facebook.

In my Memories, there were pictures from four years ago. Flowers for mum, picture of mum in her really beaten up state after a stint at the hospital. How frail she looked, how fragile. That would our last mother's Day together (even though I headed back to Canada for exams that same week, so we were not together. I made a conscious decision not to share those pictures.

As always, her birthday fell two days before Mother's Day (on 6 May). Before, this period , this week , would be such a painful and  difficult time.  This year, I went out on a long long walk, took the ferry to The islands and watched the sun go down on the city... It was beautiful, it was uplifting and a far cry from allowing myself to descend into the depths of depression and sadness.

For much of the past two weeks, a good friend was admitted to hospital (ER no less). I went to see her twice, despite her protests and urging me not to (hospitals are not nice places.. I fell ill and became so exhausted immediately after the first visit...) She's been experiencing  extremely low red blood cell counts, which the doctor treated with tranfusion after transfusion... The last time she was admitted, the doctor found something else and told her she needs immediate surgery. Scheduled for next week.

I went to pick her up and drop her home last Friday (mum's birthday, coincidentally). She told me the twelfth floor. When I got there, I realised it was the oncology ward. Then it struck me. A few moments later she revealed the surgery would be a hysterectomy.

She looked so frail and pale as I wheeled her out of her semi private room. Down was her burst of energy and her usually loud energetic  voice. How grateful she was to leave the hospital, even if she would have to return in around a weeks time for surgery. Poor her... Besides bringing her food and fruits, I wished I could do much more for her.

Dream: mum at home

There were so many things that were so familiar, every item a part of my pastx every thing a part of my memory.
I knew this place, it was so familiar... But I couldn't quite place where it was... Where was this clock frm? I knew it so well but I can't quite remember where or how or what the story behind it was....

Then I saw mum come out, and I approached her. She seemed tired and small, but she was well. Then I remembered, it was just after dad passed... I burst out crying...

How she has suffered such loss but I never really realised or appreciated the immensity of her loss... Not until this dream. Imagine my loss of mum, and how I mourned, how long it took me to get over things... But there she was surrounded by items that reminded her of her husband, of family, yet the kids were all away...
How much pain and loss she experienced! I never quite knew...

Until this dream. This terrible , realistic dream

Here with me

Mum came alive again. At least she did in my dreams. The way she sounded, the way she dressed (at home, in her pajama-like t-shirt and shorts), the way she moved and carried her. I saw her exercising... I saw her watching tv, getting ready to go out... It was like she never left.

I saw myself watching her,  me just waking up as she was getting ready. I ran upstairs (this was in our old home... The one with a garden on the top floor), rushing to call her and tell her we could go do this and do that together. Actually I was about to tell her we could meet up with an auntie (her cousin) the one I didn't manage to meet this time I was home in Taiwan , and she was so disappointed by that fact... I ran upstairs to tell mum we could meet with her. In my mind, I had all the time in the world, and didn't have a return date, so there was time we could spend together...

But as soon as I got upstairs, as soon as I saw her exercising in front of the tv, as soon as I approached her, I woke up.

It was all just a dream...
Just a dream.
A dream.

But it was so real. I could see her. I could feel her and smell her.
It was too real.
S

Leaving Taipei

The HSR just departed Taipei. I felt a sudden sadness overcome me. I know it shouldn't matter, but I cannot but feel like I'm leaving a part of me behind... The city carries the memories of my youth, my childhood... I was remembering the other day how for so many summers I would stay with dad at his apartment in Jinshan North Road, the one above the bank, on the fourth floor, room 413. We would fall asleep listening to the radio, he would go to work and I'd explore the city by myself.
Gone, gone those days are long gone but they remain in my memories.

Yesterday afternoon, I had some goose at a traditional Taiwanese eatery near where mum lived. I walked around there by myself a bit, around the department store Takashimaya where she used to go almost daily. I went back to the hotel, rested a bit before going to Dalong Dong to visit the temple famed for answering prayers for love and a stable relationship. Later I met a friend who studied with me, and after that had a walk around the night market with my cousin. Woke up early to go to the Bao An Temple to pray for good health and well-being. I stood there and remembered how I used to go there and pray for mums well-being.... I feel much lighter now. No more illness, no more cancer, no more , no more.

Even so, I feel still somewhat pensive and reflective as the train is pulling out of the tunnel and into daily southward toward Chiayi...

When you come back to the hotel, you realise you are so alone in the city you grew up in.

Do you know how that feels?

Visiting parents

"Itll be some time before you realise things..." The really kind taxi driver said. He lost both his parents within a week of one another. Twenty something years ago when he was in his twenties. It took him well into his forties for him to realise everything happens/happened for a reason. "Its still early days ...."

Four years since mum died, eight since dad passed. The days and years grow, but the feelings remain the same. Sadness, sorrow, longing, heartache... It all feels so real. So recent, but there are memories that feel blurred and are blurring...

Did we go there ? Did mum say such a thing? Did dad act in this way. I miss them still, there's no denying that.

Today when I went to see dad's resting place, there was a necklace of a boddhisatva wrapped around it. I was surprised to see, for who could it have been? I called around and nobody, not my sister in law, not my relatives knew who put that there...

Arrived in Taipei

Arrived in Taipei

I checked into my hotel room, pretty nice little room next to Shinlin metro, steps from the market where mum and I would occasionally go visit together (one of my aunties favourites...). So many memories here, so many.... As I stepped off the train, as I walked toward the mrt and found myself in the midst of all this people, I realised how very lonely I am, how very alone I am in this city. The city I grew up in, the city I lived in and came back to so many times over the years...

Zhong San north road... It connected the main road where mum last lived... To the south is the headquaters of the bank dad used to work... To the north and turn left at Tianmu Square and go a little further and you come to the hospital where mum and dad both left this world. This is Taipei, my hometown, the town I've grown to love and cherish, where I've shed tears and felt such fondness and love for the people in my life...

It is all different now. I feel like a stranger coming to a foreign city that has much changed.

Moments like this , I realise again how much I miss my parents. Tomorrow I will go see them.

Homeward bound.

Been almost twenty hours since I left home. Two plane journeys and many time zones later, I am in Japan. Late evening , tired, just want to get to the overnight hotel , maybe have some food and then rest.

Half way around the world, next stop Taiwan for around 10 days. The world feels so small when you hop in the plane and end up somewhere else. Another culture. Another country. How fortunate I am to be able to get into a plane and just fly.

It was an agitated flight... Couldn't sleep very well, and didn't do as much work as I would have liked to, despite being in the relative comfort of business class.

Coming to narita brings back memories as well... How many times have I transited through here and felt so heavy, felt so exhausted in the face of troubles surrounding mum's ailing health. Now four years after she passed, the only thought I had in the plane was : they are together now. They are together now.

25-03-2016
NRT-TPE

A long night of rest, lay in bed even after waking up at 430am and drifted in and out of sleep as the dawn arrived. The train tracks outside of my window became gradually more busy, and air traffic resumed again after the night curfew ended. As much as I enjoy watching planes take off and land at an airport, I would not waver to be living next to one. The noise, every five minutes or so, is deafening.

On the plane to Taiwan... As I lay in bed, I wondered how best to make use of my limited ten days or so in Taiwan. Where do I go first? Arriving late in the evening at the monastery makes me feel embarrassed... But I have so much stuff to haul around I really can't go anywwhre without difficulty. Will I be welcome there?  Of course I will be, but it's just I've (deliberately) not been in touch to accentuate the  impact of the surprise when I show up at the monastery. And what after that? Do I stay for most days and reserve the last few days for chiayi? When do I got see mum and dad?

I guess I'll just plan as the days go by and just decide at the moment I'm leaving...

1608-250316
On the way go the THSR

Rainy, wet, typical day in early spring in northern Taiwan. I was nervous when I was clearing immigration, as always. Always the fear of being told I must go fulfil my duty as a male citizen and serve military service... But the lady was alright, didn't say much. Withing thirty minutes of landing and collecting luggage, I'm out and on my way to the high speed railway station.

How long has it been? Nine or ten months at most? How come it feels so foreign here... How come I feel like a foreigner?
What do I do here? Do I even belong?

Brussels

I woke up feeling so groggy and heavy. And like most mornings rolled over to pick up my phone and scroll down the facebook front page. Bombings. Dead. Brussels.

It had happened six hours earlier, around 8am CET. terrorists ruthlessly bombed Brussels' airport and a metro station near the European Commission. Days earlier, one of the masterminds of the Paris attacks (where over a hundred perished, one mainly at a theatre where a concert was being held) was captured in Brussels.

The terrorists have struck again. After Mail, Ankara, Paris, the symbolic heart of Europe is the latest victim. Is there no end to this madness? Is there no end at all?

Pictures of maimed people quickly spread on social media. Cartoons with Tintin in tears were drawn... A torn country, Belgium today stands United again fear and terror, as other nations, mainly western democracies which have suffered attacks themselves. Stand in solidarity with the victims of senseless violence.

What will drive someone to hate random strangers so much they would maim them? What would drive someone to commit such acts of violence and not care whether children or old people, whether Muslims or Christians, whether Asians or Africans fall victims?
Such horrendous acts.... Instilling fear and death and gore into the lives of many who just go about their daily lives...

The extremists and right wing are having a field day. Blame is being laid on the Muslims and a whole people are painted in such bad light again...

When will such senseless violence end? When will the cruelty of humankind inflicted on itself ever end?

May the world be at peace! May there be sanity and peace...

Reality

I woke up groaning and feeling so alone in the world...


Images lingered in my head, images and thoughts of mum, memories of a trip we once took together, perhaps one of the last ones...

Where was it? I cannot recall exactly... I somehow remember a restaurant, on a roadtrip, one of our last together, a wonderful meal, a glorious sunset, beautiful smiles, seeing mum happy, which was for a long time such a treat for her pain had gotten gradually worse and worse...

But was any of it real? Was it imagined?  Did any of it happen? Was I even there? Was she even there? Were we ever there together? Did anything happen at all?

All just muddled images in my mind. All perhaps conjurings of my mind and vague recollections of my memories...

Mum, did you ever exist? Were you ever there?  Did you ever leave such an impact on my life...?

Dad's hand

I held onto Dads hands... They felt so warm, so warm and comforting...
I started to sob uncontrollably.

Nightmares

I saw these images of mum on the hospital bed... Tubes everywhere, machine sounds.... She looked so desparate, and I cringed and felt so sick...

Lunar New year's day

Out on the taking a walk, close to midnight. Beautiful crisp air, surrounded by skyscrappers and the Waters of Vancouver Harbour. I was reminded that 7 years ago , February 2009, I came here for the first time on my wei back to Montreal after spending the first new years with mum and brother after dad passed. What a trip that was... How long ago that was and feels like!

Now alone here again. Wanted to meet my relatives but they don't have time (or don't want?) I didnt want to bother my friend too long (first day is a guest, second a nuisance, third a pest! Today is the third...) So I booked a hotel for tonight. I spoke to my cousin, the one working abroad in Singapore. Seems like she's alone and finding it tough to be away from family as well. After a while, we come to realise how important family is, how important home is. And we treasure those, value those, and keep them in our memories even long after they have gone.

Quiet way to spend the first day of the new year. Reminiscing the past, and looking forward to the future...

Eight years already

This time, eight years ago, dad left the world. In my arms, he breathed his last breath and left.

I can remember it well.. where it took place, who was all there, the sound of machines beeping more slowly. Mum weeping. It was a sad sad occasion.

I miss you dad...

6 February earthquake

Three consecutive tremors hit southern Taiwan in the early hours yesterday, the biggest registered 6.4 on the Richter scale.
Immediately there were scenes of carnage and destruction as several high rises collapsed. To now, some 12 people are confined dead, dozens still missing, and with each passing moment the chances of survival, especially those trapped under rubble, grow grimmer.

I was boarding the flight to Vancouver when the news broke and immediately called my relatives back home. Luckily, things are alright with them, nobody injured and they are all sound.

Money is pouring in from all over the country, and there are many stories of hotels and restaurants offering victims free  food and shelter . In times of need, the Taiwanese know the true, heartwarming meaning of solidarity and humanity.

I was immediately reminded of the date. 6th of February, the day eight years ago dad passed away... And its the day known as new years eve eve. I remember somehow dad telling us once about how terrified he was once as a child, when a massive earthquake struck chiayi, his hometown , the Baihe quake of 1964, which struck also shortly before the lunar New year. He told me vividly the carnage and destruction after the quake, and how for days after that he and his family were so afraid to sleep indoors. It was a 6.3 quake. The one yesterday 6.4, and in a very similar area.

The things that I remember...

Japan immediately pledged aid and supplies after the quake, as gratitude for
The people of Taiwan who were the biggest donors after the 2011 earthquake. China, the country that claims it owns and governs my homeland, is surprisingly silent.

May people be well, May my homeland be safe and pass through this difficult time with ease and through unity.

YYZ:YVR

A minute or so after take off. The engine of the Boeing 777300ER is whizzing loudly as we apprach the cloud cover. All's foggy outside the window, the bright lights of the streets and urban sprawl below us is disappearing below the clouds.

Another flight. The first of several this month. As the plane soared on the runway, I could not but think back at the many flights I have taken on board planes of this sort toward Asia, toward Taiwan. Around the same time in the past few years. Past eight years almost, since dad passed. And each time how my heart filled with such anxiety, such stress such worry. It's almost all like a dream now. It all feel like some distant nightmare, some dark thunderclouds that have passed me by, drenched and frightened me ( traumatised me even) so, but are now disappearing into the distance, not to return again. Hints of those dark clouds resurface at times, in dreams, in lows of depressed states of my mind, in lonely nights when I'm lying in bed and trying to sleep... And at moments like these , days before the biggest family festival of the year, when families reunite and come together.

I dont really have a family now. But kindly a friend and her mum is asking me to fly to Vancouver and spend the new year days with them, and maybe I'll get to see my auntie and cousin as well. It's better than being at home and all alone and feeling sorry for myself, though in hind sight, had I known I'd 've traveling so much this month, I would have probably not gone on this trip.

Cuba, India, Bangladesh, Taiwan, and maybe even Europe all in the next two months. Who would have thought I'd still be flying around the world after alls said and done? I should consider myself lucky. Were it not for work,and the  strange sense of confidence my boss has in me to send me overseas to speak on his behalf and on behalf of the Institute/Centre, I would not have this oppvortunity to go to the Indian subcontinent (and side trip to visit a friend in Bangladesh)! How fortunate I am. And Cuba is a little "reward" for myself on my birthday, part of the tradition to get awei on that day when I know if I were home I  would get down because I am not with/do not really have family to celebrate my lifemy birth with. Two friends are coming and that should be an exciting and eye opening trip.

Brother has been warming up a bit more and calling me. Though it's because he is asking for my help and for me to proofread his applications to jobs, its still pleasant to be talking and have something to say to each other. The latest I heard is that he may relocate with his family to Denmark... Great state-owned defence company, and good benefits. But it'll be a lot of work and trouble to move the whole family and for the little ones to acclimatise. I really pray he has good news and a firm offer soon. That would mak our parents so proud and happy and give me some good news to tell our parents when I "see" them in a month or so.

Living in Toronto now for over a month, and things are going well. The friend I had living in my spare room has finally moved his belongings out, so for the first time ever, I could use that room, something I never did since I got the Keys to the condo around six months ago. Six months already, can you imagine? How much time and effort and stress I have experienced and spent arranging things and moving...? So much stress I started to severely grind my teeth so bad I need now to wear a nigh guard because of constant aches in my jaw! The stress level has died down now, and I am settled in more or less. But my room is still a mess...

Of papers, of unopened boxes.... And it's been like that for the better part of a month. The other day someone came by and laughed at and commented on how horrible the state of the room is. It is indeed. But little do they realise how much energy, how much effort it takes to life those boxed, to open those boxes and sort through letters pictures, momentoes that together capture the lives of my parents, the history of my family, that underline that void that still echoes in my heart when I think back at mum and dad and the family we used to be.... It is painfully difficult to sort through all these papers and boxes. Painfully difficult, hence why I just dumped them in parts of the room and have not had the energy or will to move them and sort through them...

Otherwise, life is alright. Just moving along. Doing my work, picking myself together and living life , often with such gratitude and joy  when I look around and see what I have and have accomplished, but also at times with such longing and sense of loss and emptiness.

Always look on the bright side of life.
The monkey year will be a good one.

Dream

The second time this week I had a dream about mum and dad...

God, I miss them so dearly still.

The election eve.

When I wake up in a few hours, the results of the 2016 elections in Taiwan will largely be known.

It's nerve wracking, I'm anxious and my stomach is churning I cannot sleep. Eight years of the wretched KMT and gradual erosion of my honeland's sovereignty and dignity, tomorrow may usher in hope... A woman, the first female president, the third peaceful transition of power.

But who knows what surprises are in store when the votes are counted. Who knows what dark and corrupt moves the KMT has up its sleeve, and how China will threaten and bully the public...

And even if Tsai Ing-Wen wins, how far down the road to destruction and eradicating Taiwan's international space and existence have we gone in either years? Is there still hope for the country? Will she prove herself to be a capable and strong willed leader?

I sure hope so... I sure am such a proud Taiwanese and will always be Taiwanese.

天祐臺灣

天祐臺灣！
Formosa forever...

Stubbornness

How does not wanting to trouble someone with having to pick me up at the airport become a sign of stubbornness...?

No blame, no praise.
Let it go. Let the angry words and raised voice go. They are not mine. They are gifts I do not accept, and should not bother me

Minutes to midnight

A few minutes to midnight, to the new year. Outside you can almost already hear the abated noise of fireworks and revellers, of popping champagne corks and party horns. An old year is leaving soon, a new one is about to dawn.

My cousin is in his room talking to his girlfriend, they want to 'spend' the new year together, sweet. So I'm just here on my own with the two cats, in the new apartment. It's not quite all ready yet, actually just two hours ago we were still painting parts of the kitchen, but it's falling into place. And what a way to begin the new year in a new home, filled with hope and starting life afresh. After all the troubles, all the fatigue of getting to this place, of getting to this point in my life, I sit back and feel a sense of fulfilment, finally, of quiet joy and contentment. I have come so far... so far...

Here is to all the people who have helped me along the way... may they be happy and at peace. May the world be happy and at peace.

Peace, joy and love to the world and everyone, every being in the new year.

Packing away

(was this 2014 or 2015?
Reads like it was packing to move from Montreal to Toronto)

 

 
I stopped and suddenly felt this sadness creep over me. I am surrounded by a mess of boxes, wrapping paper, and two cats who seem to be having the time of their lives playing hide and seek with plastic bags lying around on the floor. The apartment, my home for the last seven years, is slowly emptying. The cupboards,  drawers, and even the fridge, are all being cleaned out and cleared.

It feels as if I am re-reading the story of my life, replaying the records of my family's life. The fragile memories of the past are all being carefully wrapped and packed awei. The delicate momentoes from trips and classes I have taken, dates I have been on, restaurants I have dined in, funerals I have attended, are all being sorted and boxed.

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
--"Fields of gold"

Packing is like retracing traces of how I got to be where I am and who I am now. Packing is shifting through the evidence of the brevity of my thirty something years on this big, big world and piecing together the significance of events, dates, challenges which have given meaning to life. It is an opportunity to meet people again, some of whom were once so very, very dear to my heart and soul and yet have already parted. It is an opportunity to connect, even if momentarily, with the ones have given my life lasting memories of warmth and beauty.

Unhappiness where's when I was young,
And we didn't give a damn,
'Cause we were raised,
To see life as fun and take it if we can.
My mother, my mother,
She hold me, she hold me, when I was out there.
My father, my father,
He liked me, oh, he liked me.
Does anyone care?
--"Ode to my family"

Some items, in order to save space and reduce weight, need to be binned, others need to be recycled. Packing is judging, it is deciding what (...or who) matters, what will continue to matter, and what deserves a chance to continue to be part of me as I make my wei forward in life. Some things that cause too much pain or embarrassment, things associated with people or events who have long faded and paled in significance, are to be  buried and forever disappeared...

Clothes not worn for ages, still lingering with the scent of my youth, my being, are being bagged in the hope they will eventually find they wei to those who can make better use of them. Even after years of neglect, hidden in the pockets of these items of clothing are gems of my past. Crinkled pieces of papers, ticket stubs, half-used chapsticks, packets of tissues and wrappers recording little, bitter sweet  days gone by...

The collection of model airplanes are being disassembled in preparation for relocation to the new hub. Pictures on the wall, some yellowing a little already, others cringing on the sides, but all covered with the dust of time and grease from dinner parties and many countless nights eating in the company of Netflix, still need to be taken off of the walls.

"Written on these walls are the colors that I can't change
Leave my heart open but it stays right here in its cage
I know that in the morning now I see us in the light upon a hill
Although I am broken, my heart is untamed, still
And I'll be gone, gone tonight
The fire beneath my feet is burning bright"
--"The story of my life"

 I pick up another book, another photograph, another magnet from some exotic destination, another stack of letters, papers, statements that together make up the pieces of my life, and I continue to pack.

 

Last night in Montreal

One last night, last couple of hours in Montreal...

The cat is sleeping on a heap of my clothing. It is cold, not horribly so, but chilly (surprisingly 'warm' for this time of the year...). The room is a mess, but at least the rest of the house is somewhat emptier.

A few more hours, and I am out of here. Home of the past six years.

Gone.

Last night in Montreal

Final night, final few hours in my own apartment in Montreal. Seven years here, and tomorrow I will be relocated to Toronto.

The house is a mess, at least my bedroom is. I've had to move all the remaining things into my bedroom, which now is just a pile of stuff. Boxes, papers, plastic bags, odd appliances and clothes all strewn over my bed. It's a horrible mess. And I'm in a pretty foul mood... My cousin is here, and fortunately he helped me a bit. Friends came by, just to say goodbye. Need friends even ask for help to get some help...? It's just been three, four weeks of packing, packing and sorting through things, and I am dead, dead tired. As someone said, it is even tougher doing it all by myself, having to do it all alone.

Last night in Montreal, and I am in this foul mood... sadly, this is the case, perhaps because I am just so exhausted mentally and physically (my jaw hurts from over grinding... my head aches from getting by with very little sleep...) Does anyone care or ask how I am doing? Not even my own brother or his family reached out to ask how I am doing or what I am doing this Christmas period...

Flying "home"

Flying back to Montreal after a few days in Toronto. The move earlier in the week went smoothly. 30+ boxes of personal belongings and my bed all moved in a truck within a day. I'm settled now, at least the majority of my belongins have been moved. That was always the biggest headache. A headache that caused me much worry and stress, and even my night time grinding to intensify... Now it's just a matter of unpacking, and that will take some time. But I have time. Slowly, things will fall into place. Slowly, my home will be more and more personalised and my own. The arrival of the cats will be a giant leap in that regard. The cats will make things covered with hair but also with such warmth and sense of belonging. (Just hope the move next week will not be challenging....)

The last of the renovation work was completed with the delivery of the kitchen appliances and setting of the counter top for the kitchen. And yesterday, inadvettently while just walking down the street, I came across a store that had furniture made in Canada that were perfect for the condo. Deeply discounted and quality wood , made by local woodmakers. It was chance, it was fate. I didn't even have to go looking for it, it was just there, with a sign pointing up stairs. Like so many things associated with the purchase of this condo, it all happened so smoothly and flowed... 
Delivery of the furniture should be next week. And then I'm set (painting still needs to be done, but that can take some time...).

As I was unpacking some of the boxes, I careful unwrapped mum and dad's cups and bowls. The ones I use to offer them food and drinks on special days. I was again reminded of their absence, and imagined their joy of only they could see my place and stay at my own home... If only. Amid the joy and pride of owning my own home, I felt a tinge of sadness too. They worked so hard, and I have so much thanks to them... I am so fortunate to be able to buy and enjoy luxury appliances and poeceliain (all discounted of course, but still... ) Quality and living the high life compared to so many years of living so modestly in my previous apartment in Montreal. I imagine they would be happy to see my pride and joy, living on the top floor of a lovely little buidlinf in a great location. They would be assured, I am sure... 

As the plane banked away and ascended into the clouds, I felt this jubilation. I have a home. A beautiful home I can call my own. It'll be so personal, it'll be my private castle, shelter from the world, and my little private corner of the world . And it is no one else's. I have to be very careful to guard my place against others. My mum told me that, I remember, as friends in particular might try to take advantage of me seeing how I live alone, so I must be vigilante. Whatever people may say.

A few days in Montreal, one last Christmas celebration and then that's it. A new beginning at the end of a long year, and waiting to welcome the new year.

First night (with a bed)

It's not my first night here in the new condo, but it is going to be the first night with a bed.

What an exhausting three days it's been since the weekend. First had to finish a 20+ page paper (co-authoring with a very renowned scholar, what an honour!) And then packing and packing till yesterday after 3am. Had to get up at 7 to prepare for the arrival of the mover (yet another night with so little sleep... I'm averaging 3-4hrs these days, causing me headaches and dizziness... Really not healthy at all!)

The mover was honest, professional, and we chatted a bit on the long 7hr journey, about my home, about his home country iran, regional politics , the rise of extremism... 30+ items, two dozen boxes. All had to be moved.

It seemed like a dream

Flurries

I opened my eyes, the suddenness of the captain's announcement made my heart jump from the slumber I'd fallen into as soon as I boarded the plane. Tired, exhausted even, as I made my third, or is it fourth, trip to Toronto in as many weeks. Fatigued from staying up till three in the morning preparing for my lecture in the morning. Normally, after the three hour lecture, I would be so drained I would go home to nap (or even just sleep...) . But I had a project I wanted to finish, a book totalling 770 pages...

Before rushing to the airport just in time for the luggage check in cut off time, I frantically packed my usual two suitcases. I filled it with DVDs, books, whatever else was lying on the bookshelf in the spare bedroom under a layer of dust. Some DVDs have never been opened. Some books have never been fully read from cover to cover. Some momentoes bought, or stored, and never touched again. Why? Perhaps I was busy. Or perhaps I was afraid to see and flip back at the pages of days past.

One, or at least one, of the books was a photobook. A collection of ticket stubs, brochures, photographs and whatnot from trips over the past few years. Just a few years ago, when mum was still around, when journeying around the world had a goal, had a purpose, had meaning....

Loving can heal
Loving can mend your soul
And it's the only thing that I know (know)
I swear it will get easier
Remember that with every piece of ya
And it's the only thing we take with us when we die

We keep this love in this photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Our hearts were never broken
Times forever frozen still

The plane slowed and made a gradual descent. The skies were clear, or at least clearer than before I fell asleep. Looking out, the headlight installed on the wing cast an intense beam of light into the dark of the night. Rain, or at least what I thought was rain, fell sideways and were captured by the beam of light. The rain, which turned out to be sleet or flurries, got sucked into the rotating blades of the Q400 aircraft as we slowly, slowly and carefully approached Toronto.

The lights and sight of the city never ceases to be dull and again filled with with such excitement and anticipation. A friend greeted me at the airport and helped me with the two suitcases I lugged from Montreal.

Later at night, I hauled a suitcase back to my new condo alone. It was flurrying slightly. A cold, yet romantic air hang in the air. Romantic in the sense it provoked emotions,  thoughts and nostalgia... I felt a sense of gratitude. After so long, I have a home, finally have a home I can call my own. After all the struggles, after all the memories, some captured in the photobook in the suitcase that groaned as the wheels slid over the pavement, after some of the painful and most difficult and challenging moments of my life (as yet, or perhaps ever...) I have a home to go to.

I opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the new condo.  The smell of  the newly placed laminate floor lingered still in the air. I saw a trail of footprints on the lightly dusted floor. It is a work still in progress.

But I am almost there. My home, a place to call my own.