It is nearly time for me to leave Vancouver. And I am split on the forthcoming event.

In one sense, the change is welcome. I am drawn to Toronto like a magnet. It will be a thrill to be back for the summer, at a time when the patio culture flourishes. Our sublet is located in the Roncesvalles neighbourhood, too, which just happens to be one of my favourite places in the city. Moreover, the apartment itself is a dream, and I foresee many enthusiastic kisses for securing it.

On the other hand, I am sorry to be leaving this place. Moving out to this coast was a significant act. (And, as hesitant I am to associate particular acts with particular significances, I am compelled to concede this is so.) The skiing was wonderful, and, above everything, I learned that there are ways to keep yourself quite content in foreign lands.

What I look forward to most is having a permanent residence again. I do not mind traveling, but I hate to be a traveler. Envisioning my belongings in a city for more than three hundred nights fills me with a palpable happiness.

And so it goes.