Change

Change is hard. Change means that you are getting older, learning to adapt, moving forward with life. It also means that moment is now in the past. You can never go back. It is a part of who you once were, not who you are any longer.

I'm finding this move very difficult. Many things that have been a constant in my life are changing. Sure, I had a hard time in Montreal and moving would seem to be the greatest change of all. But there were also good things, great friends and fond memories. I had the same apartment for 3 years; it was my home through all the bad times. I miss waking up and having the sun pour in my window. I miss my little niche in the big city.



View of Mount Royal from my balcony



My little garden and the view of downtown/McGill campus

My bedroom nook

My kitchen .. it was small but great!



My living room

And today I washed my car .. for the last time. This is a big one for me. Sunshine and I have been partners for five and a half years .. sorry JM but she's my one true love! We've travelled all over together, she's been a safe haven for me through all my moves to new places, and my little ray of sunshine on rainy days (yes, I'm corny). Truly this car has been a staple in my life and I'm going to miss her. Tomorrow I am selling her and then she will no longer be mine.

Her good side



I know that this move symbolizes me finally getting what I've been dreaming of for years and it means I'm moving forward with my life .. but change is hard!

Probably the hardest of all is leaving behind my grandfather. We had dinner on Monday and he was concerned about me going to this far away place and being alone. I assured him that I will be with JM and that there are plenty of nice people at our schools. There appears to be the potential for a good group of friends. He seemed a little more comfortable knowing I have people I am already in contact with over there.

My grandfather is one of the greatest people I have ever known. He is a WWII veteran, got his PhD in geology from McGill, never stopped learning (he taught me how to use the internet in the 90s), and to this day is still young at heart. When he turned 89 earlier this year, I asked him how it felt to be old. He replied 'Old? Who's old? 89's not old .... 90's old.' He is still witty and can kick anyone's butt at a game of pool, despite have the old man shakes. Don't let that tremor fool you - he'll bet you out of all your quarters.

Well, I'm off to go visit him. This may be the last time I see him before I leave for Korea. This dinner is going to be another hard one ...

Jennika

James Albert Soles, 1944

My grandad