D is for Departure

D is for Departure

The city lights are shining faintly as I drive by on the highway, my eyelids still heavy from the lack of sleep. Every single flight I’ve taken in my life was always scheduled in the early morning; fate or not, here we meet again, airport. I’d like to call Montreal home, but  I never even slightly feel homesick, even after studying away from « home ». Myself being a child of immigrants, my true dwelling has to be my suitcase.

I don’t even feel sorry to leave for El Salvador on New Year’s Day.

Yesterday evening I didn’t really celebrate New Year’s Eve. Spending some time with my relatives was enough, and since I get to celebrate New Year twice in a year, it doesn’t bother me much. Ever since the first delegates from our team fled to Central America, I’ve been eyeing their updates on my social feed, anxiously waiting to finally take the plane and rejoice in the Salvadorian sun.

My time has come: the sharp tickling sound of my watch reminds me that 10 days will fly by too quickly.

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