my figurative plate is too full, yet at times i find myself barely eating the three minimum required meals a day. the effort i made to be more like my old productive self here in Montréal means that i have somehow given myself too much to do again, with too little time. some days i am out the door at 6:20am, almost an hour before the sun now rises, and i do not come back until past 10 at night. even with two jobs, i tried to sign up for two choruses, and try to cook, clean, do laundry, do “adult” chores, and sleep. that last one wasn’t happening enough the week before last, and i felt like i was barely hanging on, almost falling apart from fatigue. my period was so late and irregular that i feared i might’ve gotten pregnant and that was a week of much un-needed stress on top of everything else.
i should count myself lucky at least, that i do not have jobs that i hate. as tiring as it is to start at 7 in the morning almost everyday, to run around on my feet for 8 hours serving customers, i still enjoy it. i am so grateful that i found a job that gives me enough hours a week even with my restrictive availability, and i really appreciate working at a café where the majority of customers are amiable, and the owners/bosses are fair and hardworking themselves. even when i am feeling sluggish, i feel motivated to work harder, because it always seems as though my coworkers and the owners are working harder still. i also enjoy having the opportunity to practice my french and feeling capable of working efficiently again.
and even though i go almost directly from an eight hour shift to picking up the kids i look after from school, i still look forward to doing it. while i felt under appreciated by the girls during the summer, i feel more like they genuinely like me now and perhaps even miss me when i am not around. it’s taken months, but i feel that they show me trust and affection; and even when i am so tired i feel as though i may fall asleep standing up while waiting outside of the school, i can’t help breaking out into a big grin and waving when i see the younger girl come out the front doors looking for me on the other side of the fence. and hearing the gladness in the older girl’s tone of voice when i say i will be staying for dinner or staying late to play with her after dinner makes me feel wanted, like i belong, like i matter. there is such a rewarding feeling too, in helping her with her school work everyday, in watching her progress from week to week, in noticing her improvements and feeling like my efforts are a crucial contribution to her grades, and in realizing that she trusts my knowledge of her coursework enough to listen to me when i am helping her study.
and joining an all women’s a capella choir has given me a chance to learn new music while practicing something i love in a warm, encouraging, and fun environment. even if it’s exaggerated, the praise i hear from other women who are great at singing is motivating. and whether it’s when we join hands at the end while standing in a circle and singing our theme song, or when i am attempting to sing my part alone in a car with two other women who kindly offered to drive me home, or when i am asked to join an octet to sing songs in another language (Mandarin), i always feel such a great sense of belonging and welcome, that i am almost moved to grateful tears.
and so, little by little, i feel like i am carving out a tiny niche for myself in Montréal, which hopefully will be worth all the hours of lost sleep. i am too busy and tired to feel as homesick or lonely as i imagine i otherwise might, though i still feel it day to day, like a lingering bruise on my chest, that makes itself felt when gently pressed by a scent or a song that stirs up memories. i still miss France every week, and i can never seem to find time to chat with anyone back home anymore. sometimes it feels so surreal, to be back in Canada, working in Montréal, not having seen my family or friends for over a year, and knowing that this time last year, i was climbing a hot sand dune with views of the Atlantic in Arcachon, and shopping and drinking wine along the quayside in Bordeaux. in this way, i feel like an uprooted flower, struggling to find some stable soil, but every time i am replanted, some roots become lost and scattered and i feel like i’m wilting slowly when i wish i could be in bloom. the only time i feel calm and relief, even if it’s just for a few brief moments, is at the end of the day when i get to come ‘home’ to J and hold his hand in my sleep, and feel like i am bathing in sunshine despite the wintry weather and cold grey skies.
auds & ends 