From an email with a friend:
I had this thought tonight. I told two others and I'll tell you too.
I think Japan occupies so much of my heart because every day I was there, I knew I only had one year there. I knew the end was coming soon, so I lived each day with all my will, all my feeling and attention. I kept a journal and took photos, and tried to remember everything that happened in my physical being. I felt broken, worn down to a nub sometimes. But when my kids gathered around me, or I rode my bike up a new hill just to see what was there, or when the sun was warm and I walked down and sat next to the ocean just because I could, my heart swelled to bursting, too big for me. Even if I was alone.
What I forgot is that even though I've returned, the end is still coming soon. It may not be one year. But this time right now is already slipping away. This moment, the opportunity that comes only with tomorrow, will be gone the day after. Just because I will be in this same area does not mean this time is not precious.
When I came home I couldn't believe how green the mountains were. It was as if I'd never seen them.
Where is the white sand desert?
This summer I want very much to go see my grandma down in Colorado, and to climb the sand dunes there. My father took my sister and I to them when we were children sometimes, and once, we climbed to the very top.
I have to climb them again and come home with sand in my socks.
I bought a little sheep plush I've named Douglas. He fits in my breast pocket and listens very patiently to my choppy Japanese.
No comments:
Post a Comment