My childhood bedroom is now my office. A wooden desk sits where a twin bed once was, cameras and computers where Barbies once lived. Some days it feels like my past self is still here, just out of reach. This essay is about memory, leaving and returning, and what it means to live beside her again.

A cozy, slow travel guide to Montreal—from markets and mountaintops to courtyard cafés and scenic city walks. Thoughtful tips, local gems, and reflections from the in-between.

I never met my great-grandmother, Concetta. But somehow, she keeps showing up—in my mirror, in my kitchen, and in the quiet rituals passed down through generations. This is a story about memory, family recipes, and the invisible ways we’re shaped by the women who came before us.