The first leap happened February 4, 2011.
That day, after living 29 years in a housing co-op in Verdun — my hometown —, I told the co-op members I was leaving… moving out… moving on. I hadn’t found a place to live, yet. I had no clue where I’d end up. I left my spacious five-and-a-half flat at the end of June 2011.
Four months of hell ensued. In October 2011 — exhausted, sick, disillusioned —, I escaped to the mountains where my son had found me a safe haven.
The second leap happened today, February 6, 2013.
I sent my landlords an email saying I wouldn’t be renewing my lease. On July 1, 2013, I’ll be leaving my cramped one-and-a-half basement flat. I’ll be moving out… moving on. I haven’t found a place to live, yet. I have no clue where I’ll end up. All I know is that I want to live above ground. I want a view. I want a balcony. I want a place big enough to have a room with a BED. I want a place to call “home” again.
What is it with the month of February…