It’s weird — it only just struck me Saturday, two months after leaving Toronto, that I don’t live there anymore.
I still work there, of course, so my weekdays don’t really feel any different, aside from taking a different train. Even coming in for my class on the weekend, or to hang out with my friends, still feels pretty much the same… I still go downtown; it’s just a longer drive.
So why was Saturday any different? As far as I can tell, it was just the way that I drove home. Instead of taking the highway West out of downtown, circumstance dictated that I take it North, which is how I always used to get home. For some reason, driving up this road, like I had so many times before, but with a different destination, just drove home the fact that I was surrounded by a million homes, none of which were mine.
Toronto was my home for 4 years. I guess it’s harder to let go than I thought.
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