Two Lucky

In Montreal, it is everything I imagined. I take walks with my aunt and help my cousin with his school work. In the evening, we sit in the yard and enjoy a good bottle of wine. Dinner is always rich with a delicious spread of cheeses au lait cru. My French has improved leaps and bounds in the four days I’ve been here.

I have also been crying every day and every night. I dream of Rusty all the time. Letting out my sadness has been good for me. With my aunt, I am a child again. I don’t feel the pressure to be strong. When I speak of my grief, she understands me perfectly.

But I am ready to go home. In a few hours I will be on my way to the airport. I am beginning to miss the apartment and the familiarity of our home. I miss Rusty, too. It’s silly, I know, but a part of me still thinks he’s there, waiting for me to come home.

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 3rd, 2007 at 11:09 am and is filed under New York. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.