neon golden, like all the lights...
Looking down through thousands of feet of night air, Montreal is heavenly. Everything is gold crosses melted into the black sky, with the river cutting a shining, shivering black gash across the land. My heart continually swelled farther up into my throat to correspond with every inch the plane sank towards the earth.Five days later the city disappeared behind me under a sick, clouded sky and I closed my eyes, refusing to believe it was gone.
Back here, everything is colder but otherwise identical. The buses inhaling and exhaling students, the asphalt smeared with construction dirt, the flickering yellow squares of the parking garage windows, and the half-finished building outside my window offer nothing new to look at. There is only the same gray-white tile floor, the same yellow-brown furniture, and the same blank concrete walls. It is suffocating.
I walked the same path today that I walk every alternate day of the week. It already feels surreal that I was ever gone. The whole process of the day felt as though it was melted over me, holding me, covering me - a quicksand of routine dragging on me at every turn.
But tonight, remembering how real our laughter was on Saturday night, remembering how grateful I was that you held on to me when your mother was visiting, remembering the ridiculous restaurant hunt and the way my cheeks stung with the cold, I felt overwhelmingly happy.
In spite of everything in our way, I've got more hope than I've ever had before.
posted by Anonymous @ 10:34 PM
