Reflection

I dream of Japan often, which, I suppose is appropriate. My life in Japan has the feel of a dream; filmy strands of bright memories, strung together with care and nostalgia. Images so fondly remembered that when I close my eyes, there they still are, clear as day. Time wears away at human memory like a tide, chipping away at the rough, difficult experiences, until only the smooth, sweet moments remain.



I miss it. Even after a year of living there, it's still a place of mystery and wonder for me. It never really gave up all of its secrets; perhaps it never will. But I'm eager to visit again, to keep trying to unearth what it is about this country I love so much. There are new reasons to return now. I have someone special that I long to show that part of myself; the pieces of me that make sense in that culture, that come alive on temple steps and blossom along garden paths. I can't wait to show him the castle courtyard where I felt the current of time stand still, the ramen shop where I found myself in deep bowl of spicy noodles, the Heian shrines that spark the imagination... Will he fall in love with the sloping green hills and jewel-bright sea as much as I did?



And then there are the new adventures-- the cities I haven't gotten lost in yet, the people I haven't met. It excites me to know that there are parts of Japan that we can explore together, potential new memories we can share. When I first arrived there, I was an inexperienced, wide-eyed girl. The bustling streets and train stations gave me a self-assurance and confidence that I had never known before. What will they teach me now as an older, more mature woman?



I'm happy to be home among my friends and family, and I know that I am right where God wants me to be, standing at the threshold between one life and another. But there's a certain deliciousness in homesickness, and being able to pause and wistfully look back is such a gift. For a time, living in Japan was just right-- exactly what I needed. I loved it while it lasted, but I'm not sorry that it had to come to an end. And that's very much a Japanese perspective, this awareness of things being fleeting. Temporal. Like a cherry blossom, vivid and flourishing one moment and quickly faded the next.



I'm ready for the next part of my life adventure, but I hope that somewhere in the upcoming chapters, there will be a return to Japan. Because I can't help but think that it will always be part of my story, even if it's just one more visit or something I simply tell my children about.