I finally made the big decision. Put the Bowflex C6 in my shopping cart. Cate’s given raves how this spin bike is her new best friend. And even though it won’t arrive for 3 months, I’m ready to commit. Montreal winter won’t be over three months from now, nor will pandemic restrictions (or in any event, I don’t see myself going to an indoor spin class for quite some time. 2022?). I put in my new Montreal shipping address and ticked the box confirming that it was not the same as my billing address. Which, it turned out a moment later, I could not even enter. Only Canadian billing addresses allowed. I only have US credit cards. It turns out the much-vaunted global economy does not include the Bowflex.
So, my partner and I dipped our toes another inch into the Montreal waters and applied for a credit card. We’ve been baby stepping our way toward making this city our new home. We started with the Bixi membership (Montreal’s shared bike system). Moved onto membership in the loyalty program at the pet store. There was an Opus card for the metro system on a rainy day I couldn’t Bixi. Some serious winter running gear, for the more northerly clime. Then a new Canadian bank account, so we could use Interac. I was tired of having to sign credit card receipts for my two-dollar, half-baguette purchase at the boulangerie. The first time I tapped my Canadian debit card was a moment of outsized excitement. I belong!
New York City has been my much-loved home for the last 27 years. I’ve lived in the same apartment for 25 of those years. Yet, I’ve been feeling itchy for Canada and specifically Montreal. I’m a London, Ontario girl by upbringing. But Montreal stole my heart while I was here doing my undergraduate degree at McGill. Ever since, the city has occupied a corner of my spirit, waving at me from time to time. In September, my partner and I decided to come for a few months, which is looking like it will turn out to be a lot more than that.
Suddenly, the Bowflex C6 isn’t just a spin bike. It will be another little root we are putting down in Montreal. My next rootlet will be a plug-in kettle, because my kettle in NYC is for a gas cooktop and our new stove will be induction. Did I mention that we are also in the process of buying a place to live?
Nothing feels final. Yet. My head and heart are a perfect storm of seemingly contradictory emotions. Grief at leaving friends, my home, my city. Excitement, even exuberance at the prospect of moving to Montreal. Also, there’s a feeling of coming home that has taken me by surprise. One day I was trying to describe it to someone and started crying. I keep thinking of the robot in one of Douglas Adams’ books (not The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, maybe the Dirk Gently, can someone tell me??). The poor robot’s circuits melt down, trying to hold contradictory thoughts in its head—a characteristic that Adams’ points out is so very human.
At first, I wanted to rationalize the grief away. Diminish NYC’s allure and charms, as a way to justify my decision and ease the pain. As if loving the city, my longtime home and my absolutely wonderful friends (!) could not coexist with my desire for a new horizon. I am learning to hold the seemingly contradictory emotions of grief and joy separate and together. There is no contradiction, just coexistence.
What keeps me from spiraling out of control in the midst of the emotional swirl (never mind all the logistics) is moving my body. No matter how turbulent I feel when I set out for a run (or one of my Bixi Queen workouts that I wrote about last month), by the time I’m home, I feel the glow of adventure; a grounded lightness, a shimmer of yes-ness. Sweat is so clarifying. While I never experience quite the same effect from indoor workouts, I’m quite sure that I’ll be super glad for the Bowflex when it finally arrives. And if it turns out that the pandemic is totally eradicated by March or next winter, well I’ll still be happy for the workout flexibility and for the Canadian credit card I needed to buy the spin bike. Each little rootlet supports my new life.
I’m not tearing up roots. I’m extending my roots. With every run on Mont Royal, I feel the tendrils of my nervous system absorbing the new nutrients, feeding my spirit and smoothing my circuits.