I took a nice long walk through the gentrifying neighbourhoods, from the Village all the way to the Atwater market, where I was meeting my friend Akina. It was gently raining, the terraces were full and the early fall in Montreal always makes me feel special. It feels like something good is just around the corner. I was listening to Tomasz Jerdowsky’s Swimming in the Dark – a tender novel that feels like one’s own heartbeat.

Later, as we were walking along the canal, Akina asked if I was still with my husband. I remember you telling me that you wanted to leave him, she said. I looked at her, surprised, unexpectedly happy that she remembered. I told you I wanted to be single, I said, you were the first person I ever admitted this to.

I remember it very clearly. Akina was pregnant, so it was three years ago. We met at a cafe. I brought her a book as a gift. Kenny Odell’s How to Do Nothing. It’s not that I think that you’ll be doing nothing, I said, but your relationship with time will change. And besides, it is a really good book. We must have talked about relationships. She must have asked me how I felt about mine. I said, in a longer term, I see myself single. I don’t want to be with my husband. I don’t want to be with anyone. Just my kids. I remember it so vividly, because it was the first time I said it out loud.

Things come to an end. Good things and not so good things. Sometimes they need to be accompanied to their end, gently. September always makes me feel like things are ending and beginning. It was around this same time that I’d left my home nineteen years ago. I remember vividly that it was also raining.