That sheet of paper has been stapled in my passport since August. If you look closely, you can see that it expires on February 10. A small handful of close friends knew of my trepidation before coming to Montreal; after the debacle that England became, the idea of living abroad again felt like a nightmare's crushing weight upon my chest.
Not all of them understood just how important this move was to me, but that no longer concerns me. Montreal has given me what I wanted, which was the final closure on 2005 and 2006. It has been an incredible experience, including the fulfillment of a couple of dreams from early in my college days. Whatever happens next, I can look back on my time here and be glad.
Below is a steaming bowl of spaghetti I made for lunch today. When last in Paris, my mom made a lunch of spaghetti with an egg cracked into the sauce, turning it a reddish orange. The egg adds body, giving a simple jarred marinara sauce umami not usually found. Seeing the bowl of pasta steaming in the afternoon light, I again felt a strong longing for Chicago that has been more pronounced of late.
