Yesterday, when I entered the lobby of my building, it smelled like my uncle’s parfum (which, BTW, I don’t particularly like although I don’t hate it either)
He lived with us at my grandma’s appartment until I was 12. Then he moved out and started his family.
Everytime I had to work or study during the weekend and I arrived home in the afternoon, I knew he was visiting us since I arrived to our floor, because I smelled the parfum.
So, when I entered the lobby, for just a second, I thought “my uncle is home” and set my mind to see him. It took me just a second to realize I wasn’t going to see him and start crying.
I held my tears, went upstairs and entered the appartment. Once I closed the door and sat on the stool right in front to take off my boots, I couldn’t hold it anymore.
Sometimes, when you move to another country, you wish you could bring some parts of your life that you like with you.
Every second in Montreal, I fall deeply in love with this city, and I feel that one of the best decisions I ever took was coming here.
But I also cry when I smell my uncle’s parfum or when I spend an hour listening to the radio and that set sounding out loud is exactly the same my mom and I listened while getting ready every morning when I was at elementary school.
As I said, as an immigrant, even when you never, ever, regret your decision to leave, sometimes you wish you could bring more than a couple of cases with you.