This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write.
We didn’t get off to a great start – you, with your subzero winters and slower than snail pace banking. Me, with my post-wedding blues and no job for the first time since I was 14. But we stuck at it, we pushed through the tough times and fell in love. I embraced your pace of life, your obsession with coffee and even started to enjoy hockey. You (finally) gave me a job, adored my Britishness and taught me how to stay warm.
As time went on, we grew closer. You became home and I began to sing your national anthem with tear-jerking pride. Not once did you ask me to give up my identity, but instead you allowed me to truly be a British Maple. You gave me friends, neighbours, poutine and amazing bacon. I gave you two beautifully cheeky Canucks to add to your nation of loyal citizens.
In the last five years, I have cried harder, laughed louder and loved stronger than I ever thought I could. For that, I will be forever grateful. But the time has come to say goodbye, and to end the most wonderful chapter of our life together. You did nothing wrong (apart from your crazy house prices and being on the wrong side of the Atlantic, but I can’t really blame you for the latter). It’s not you, it’s me. I need to own my own front door again, I want to live without the fear that a humongous condo bulding is going to block my view of your beautiful rooftops and ravines.
It will be hard, but in time you will move on. You’ll find another ‘me’ to adopt and nurture. I’ll settle into my new life too, but I will never forget you and the amazing life you allowed me to build here.
Thank you, Toronto, for all you have given me. Rest assured that there will always be two pieces of my heart that are forever yours.