Remember, remember...

As I sit here, propped up by bed pillow, adjusting annoying ipod earbuds every half minute, half empty Yuengling perched on my favorite piece of furniture--a nightstand shellaced with pictures from home--I am desensitized. V for Vendetta is on pause at minute 2:11 (it's November 5). At least I made it before midnight. But I don't want to watch a movie... not this movie, in this bed, in this space. Tradition is broken. A broken Tradition. Like watching A Christmas Story in December or eating futomaki for Setsuban. Except you'd rather eat futomaki every week... and would if you could, but once a month will do.

You miss Japan, your friends, bike rides in green spaces, and runs in the country.  You even miss bitter cold and trying to balance an umbrella in the gray.  Flurries on New Years and companionship in a foreign cab.  Trains to Kurashiki and fingers in your hand.  Coffee stirred with tiny spoons.  You miss it.  You do.  Like you missed the ocean blue.


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