When I think of Montreal, I think of the quietness. Running through the empty streets from Mont Royal down to Old Port. I think about the cobbled stones and the too-many-to-count potholes. I think about the winter weeks when -20° is a welcome relief from weeks of -40° weather. I think about the times I cried and times I laughed. I think about my first day in the city when I was walloped by a storm and I had to drag my suitcase up the gawd-awful hills that dot the city. When I think about Montreal, I think about my entire 20s and how much I grew just by living there.
I don't know why I love this city so much. It's not perfect. Every time I leave, I try to let go. But every time I come back I realize what I knew before: it's home.