Left behind

Within less than 7 days I have seen three people leave my life.

During the leaving dinner with Monica at this great sushi table in Camden Town, I felt that we should have gone out more, enjoy our time together here. We’ve had deep discussions before our last hug somewhere nearby the Northern Line and our last words: “See you in Madrid...”

In the cab between the Modern Pantry and South Kensington station, I firmly held Nancy’s hand with so much love, regretting that we had not had more time to talk about everything. When I said goodbye in the morning it felt unrealistic again so does my life since I quitted Quebec on the 9^th of March.

For his last dinner in London, I invited Papa to cook for me in my house in South Tottenham. I bought a Syrah at Oddbins and bought from Waitrose everything we need to make Penne arrabiata and our traditional Salade César. Stanislas my French housemate joined us for dinner in the garden.

The smell of the garlic and the bacon in the pan is source of joy and peace for me. I caught it to keep it with me till the next time my dad would cook for me.

It still felt unrealistic when accompanied my father in Seven Sisters station and said bye. We both looked at each other disappear behind the electric escalators, waving a hand, trying to catch the last sight of each other’s end of hair. That moment lingered but seemed to slide so quickly, and a few seconds later I was walking in the lightless street, lonely orpham, surprised to be crying noisily.