Hometown Hatogaya

Compensating for a night of kaitenzushi and karaoke with my host family, twilight homework, and voices from over the ocean, I practiced my daily craft of sleeping on the train on my way back to hometown Hatogaya. I awoke, let the magic of escalators carry my heavy hopes and restless heart to the exit of the station.

As I stepped outside, giant gusts of wind hit my face and my bangs flew into my face. Band of Horses' song, "The Funeral" pops up in my shuffle, and suddenly the sights and sounds clicked a reel of the surreal, where I absorbed all that I could see, all that I could feel.

Grandmas on bicycles, salarymen making their wage, the sun's rays creeping from my shoulder to my face. A young man and woman in their high school uniforms, sitting on bikes laughing, interacting in a way that feels like there is something more. Safe Japanese streets full of children in matching yellow hats and backpacks, accidentally kicking off a shoe to impress their friends of how far they could kick a stick, and aweing at a crawfish out of its container. The trees begin to sway as I pass through the gate to the shrine, the wreath in the middle a shining beacon of green.

I couldn't help but smile. Involuntarily, naturally, instinctively. Heavenly. I was uplifted by such simple sewamono; hit by a wind where I was aligned with the universe.