“This is it”, I realize. 84 miles from Benito Juarez International. 2229 miles from a place (now a memory) that possibly altered every part of me. C’est fini.
After a month of declaring my ambitious plans to leave a city that most friends would bet their money on me coming back to, I process my own departure at last.
After a month of meeting friends, listing out how we’ve grown in two long years, alas it was time to for me to actually reflect.
The last two years feel oddly warped. Like an eternity when I think of how distant I am from the shy boy who landed in Canada clutching his study permit, dragging a bruised blue VIP valise up through the shiny arrivals exit. Yet like a blur when I try to recollect every concert that bubbly boy went to.
I feel heavy. I try comforting myself by pinning it on the descending aircraft. “Can’t start a trip on a low”, I argue. Deep inside, I sense a cry coming up. Heavy gulps. Long breaths. Oh lord, the broker of highs is here for his margin call of tears.
Bienvenido a Ciudad de Mexico!
