Dread.

A week before my flight to Canada, my boyfriend asked me how excited I was.

I told him I was scared.

How was that possible? In two flights, I would be back in the house I grew up in, the city where I had most of my ‘firsts’, and most importantly, surrounded by the people I love the most – some I hadn’t seen for over two years.

That scared me.

It scared me to think about the wash of emotions walking through my neighborhood, sleeping in my own bed, eating my mom’s home cooked food. It’s even scarier to think about what will happen when I have to say goodbye to it all over again. Will I be able to?

How can I leave? How can I return to a place where my core support system is not present?

I made the choice two years ago. I made the commitment to challenge myself because I was fed up with the ‘me’ of 2015, I wasn’t improving and I felt stagnant. And in order to better myself, I had to leave my comfort zone – by aboutΒ 11,628 km.

And now here I am, staying up because I know once I close my eyes, there will only be one more day left. 24 hours left in a place where my best friends party on weekends, where my mother patiently practices oil painting on Fridays and nags me to wear slippers, where my brother eats junk food and where my sweet childhood memories linger.

This place is my foundation and there is comfort in knowing that this won’t change.

See you later Toronto, I promise I’ll be back before you realize I’m gone and I’ll be bringing back some goodies.

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