The Last Week

A last-minute piece, but I think that I have something to say…

It is the day before I fly home to see my family for the usual two-week spread in my old hometown. I am not looking forward to seeing anything related to the city (for the most part). I am much more interested in how time has changed all of us over the last time I was at home, attempting to enjoy the holidays at my least favourite time of the year. And then I remembered this challenge, right in the middle of laundry, packing and planning for the rides to the airport.

Why can’t I take a break from spilling out all of these moments of my life?

And why do I need to look back at the previous years, especially since that year is 2024…

2024… Is anyone going to look back on this fondly? Politically, socially, emotionally, economically, and – yes, I’ll say it – psychologically, we have all had better times. I was forced to move out of a place I had lived in for seven years because the landlord wanted to bring over some family and have them take over the place (unfortunately, they turned out to be nice; one trip over to pick up my mail proved as much). I had barely more than two months to look for a place when I received the message by text at a café. There was that particular stomach-dropping feeling we all feel when dealing with an extreme and unpleasant change in life. Along with this, I had to borrow money from those same relatives to help me move out of my home (my mother, bless her, calls it “a definite loan”; hope she is prepared for a long payback period) and do the ugly work of hunting down a place. This brought me back to my early years as a grad student looking for roommates and spots where I could afford to keep a roof over my head. I was not working that summer (had no need to think that needed that extra money beforehand), and I hopped from online rental agencies to apartments, condos, homes and any other structure willing to take a chance on my ability to keep playing this game.

And I am deeply grateful for all of it.

I know that I could probably take a story from work or something from the small dramas of life with my family in a different part of the country, but I must say that the constant hopping from one responsibility to another kept me going. I was aware that I was both alone and not alone. My family was quite upset that I was, once again, on the hunt for a place to live. But they understood. They knew that I would not be leaving the city of Montreal for the delights of Hamilton, no matter what I was facing. And I kept looking and looking.

It was difficult. Even one of the sons of the landlord who was kicking me out admitted that he did not want me to leave. I was told that I was one of the best tenants they had ever had and that I could use all of them as a reference. Very nice to hear, but at the time, it meant very little to me. I was spending so much time online looking at places I doubted I could afford that I did not hear the compliments in the comments. But…you never know how these things will play out.

Eventually, I did find a place. When I arrived at the building – a set of triplexes connected by pathways near a hospital and a college – I doubted that I would be given a chance to even see the place. There was a line of potential tenants standing in a line in front of the last building on the right. I had to wait for a little while before I was shown into the first floor apartment that seemed more spacious than I expected. Hydro and the wifi would no longer be included in the rent, and I would be paying slightly more than usual for the place…but it was fantastic for a single guy trying to avoid living in a cardboard box in front of my college (teaching and then heading into a cardboard space would probably affect my grading for the semester). And then, after speaking to the landlord’s son about my work and time in the city, I went on my way…

…And I got the apartment.

It took just over a week before the decision was made to let me take it. They did a credit check (much better than I expected it to be), a reference check (glad that the landlord and his family spoke so highly for me) and chose me. Now, I knew that I should have probably left that stone unturned, but I needed to know why it was me who was chosen.

Well, again, I left a good impression when I spoke to the other son. I had a good credit rating; I had a good job (college teaching often sounds more impressive than it actually is); I could speak English fluently and would not need a translator every time the landlord wanted to discuss an issue with me. I was in.

Now, what kind of lesson did I learn from all of this?

With Vocal, I found an outlet for my meandering thoughts, and you have all been very supportive and kind to a talent I often doubted I had. Too many ideas have ended up in my notebooks without any follow through (I have written about some ideas on how I create; maybe I should do what I am doing right now and just sit down and start typing from now on). You have been worth the continual typing and sharing. But I want you all to be aware that I am trying to also accept that there are other things that I cannot control, like being kicked out of a wonderful apartment and forced to look for a new roof over my head.

So, the lesson here, at the end of another year, is that I am not as alone as I think I am and I do deserve to be a little kinder to myself.

Happy holidays, folks, and I will try to get more of my stories ready for the return home and the New Year…

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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