It feels like I'm home.
I went for a walk in my new neighbourhood on Saturday afternoon, determined to kick jetlag.
The woman at the grocery store gave me free tomatoes, the owner of the noodles shop next door wishes me a good morning every day, no matter the hour.
If you ask a person in the street a question, they'll answer it, no one will go running.
There are thirteen million people here, and evidence of their accomplishments on every corner, and somehow I am already proud to be a part of it.
My roommates are from Quebec, importees like me, but they've been here for months and still not accustomed to the taste of real milk.
They are full of questions for me... And somehow I take pride in answering them, in teaching them about cheese with real flavour, teaching them to find the grapefruit in the wine.
There are some people who should be here with me, no matter how Canadian they are, or how alien I felt there and how at home I feel here.
Maybe the comfort is temporary, but it feels like i left my family that I worked so hard to build, only to come home without them.
This will make more sense tomorrow, but right now, know that I miss you, and cry myself to sleep looking at different stars.