I canceled my flight ticket. I had been putting it off, day after day, until the last possible day it could be done, but I finally did it. March 31st, 12:20pm, I won’t be on a plane. Two 180’s makes a 360, which leaves you where you started, except with twice the disorientation.
It was a beautiful time. I felt so blessed with every farewell I exchanged. Every cup of coffee (or tea, I don’t drink coffee), every get together, reminded me how much I would miss this place. During my last drama performance, at the beginning of the month, my going away was announced, and after the show I was mobbed by my elementary age fans. Hearing over and over again from friends in both intimate settings and large parties what I’ve meant to them truly moved my heart. I was leaving something good.
Now, as I am left to deal with the aftermath of, well, you know… As I pick up the pieces left behind from that, I’m constantly reminded of what I feel like has been ripped out of my hands. Other than cleaning my room and packing my bags, everything was ready. From airfare to stuffed thank you letters to a pre-sold car and a job handed down, everything was set for me to go. Now, with every letter that takes the place of its outdated predecessor in the envelope, I am painfully reminded of how much I yearn for that place. My first experience living in Japan, my first chance to develop deep Japanese friendship, my first chance to be more than a tourist in a place that is not my hometown, and the chance to be love and help to a people desperately in need of it: I had lost something good.
I had hoped that I would have been able to title this post, “It’s Still Farewell Season,” but Farewell Season is all but gone, and it is about time to bid farewell to it. It was certainly good while it was here, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing it again for some time. Until then, please, although I know that you will, please remember, God, love Japan.