A Distance

By Johnny Nghiem

June 3^rd, 2018

"We move across the world for a better life and now you've left us to do the same." - Mom

It's been three years since I've lived in Toronto and those three years have come and go like my youth. Yet, like my youth, I've clung onto big and small memories as if they were holding me together as a person, someone I'm not sure if my past would recognize me anymore besides my hair.

There are moments when I regret leaving and the idea of the word "leaving" implies so many things I can't comprehend. Where do I get a bowl of wonton noodle soup that reminds me of one from King's Noodle or a beef patty from Caribbean Queen? When do I get to see grandma and garden with her? Who do I talk to when I have some thoughts?

I've come to a point where I think that to adapt, one must be able to also adapt new memories alongside the old.

It was never about replacing what I had in the past with the new but to discover new comforts and to share that experience.

However.

Not everyone is ready for it and that's something I can't change.

That's not to say I haven't tried to implement this idea into my daily routine already.

To see old friends in a space you both don't really call home is finding a comfort together that makes sense. To bring down those internal walls and be vulnerable together. And to find something you both can call peace.

That's been my ride so far and whether it'd be alone or with others, I can see the difference of the old and new but I always remind myself of what's good.

After more than a year, I'll be back to visit next month and I can't wait to devour every dumpling, banh mi, and appreciate where it all started for me.