Being back from Montreal is always, an experience. Missing the people I got to see, missing the people I didn't even more. Everyone changing without me kind of makes me sad. I used to have this reoccuring dream, where right as my family was about to load the car to come back to Toronto, I would get on the bus right beside our car, and ride it far away. From there I would run, until my family finally had to leave, and I was able to live there forever. The whole, way it looks, way it smells, the way people look at you, the way the roads turn and breeze moves your hair. It's just home. But you wouldn't understand that. "It's time to go home now Ashley." "No, going home would be staying here." I slept at my best friends house; hers is right beside mine. And I saw these kids run down my driveway from inside and that's supposed to be me. Inside is my room, with my bed, and my closet. And right through the front door is that hall that leads to the kitchen. I just wanted to kick that kid. But it wasn't her fault. I just want to be able to blame someone. My dad? His company? Time? The drive there is always amazing. WELCOME TO MONTREAL. I love that sign. And from there on, all of the signs are french. All of the restaurants, and stores, and road signs. The drive back is me trying to sleep the whole way until I pull into my driveway, there's nothing interesting to look at. WELCOME TO TORONTO. WELCOME TO THIS ENGLISH TOWN THAT MAKES YOU MISS HOME MORE THAN YOU THOUGHT TO BE POSSIBLE.
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