Home

I am on the last leg of my travel home, seated in a small airplane bound for Columbus, Ohio. I started my traveling almost twenty-four hours ago in Japan, and I have watched the sun rise and set twice.

The fact that I am back in America still astounds me, and I catch myself staring at English signs and listening to random conversations. The simple act of eavesdropping seems so amazing and new.

The airports are teaming with people of every country, shape and color. I have slipped back into a country where I can hide easily. I am no longer a minority. Of course, that doesn’t mean I am any good at slipping into the background since I’ve been back. My wide, surprised eyes mark me as some sort of tourist, I am dressed in Japanese clothes, and I am fighting the urge to murmur Japanese apologies and gratitude. I caught myself bowing to a shop owner. When a security guard asked me a question I gave him a sheepish nod and smile, voicing a single hummed note that in Japan meant a humble, “Yes.” He had to ask me the question again.

Beyond all of these mannerisms, I am also wearing a face mask. In Japan people wear them often—especially in light of the swine flu—and feeling rather under the weather, I bought one for myself. Good thing I did, because the whole trip home I have been coughing and sneezing with a nose that cannot decide to be stuffy or runny. It’s a terrible cold (that would be rather ironic were it actually swine flu), and people in the airport stare at me. Japanese clothes, a black fedora, a backpack with a stuffed penguin hanging out the side, and a very obvious white mask create a rather original ensemble, I think.

On top of this, I feel as though I will return to Japan in the morning and all the people I said good-bye to will still be there. Tomorrow we will head to Kyoto or Osaka, perhaps. Afterward we’ll watch movies in the lounge until 3:00 in the morning. You know—the usual.

I think the reason for this the lack of an ending. When our exams and completion ceremony were all canceled due to the flu, there were a lot of friends that we never were able to say good-bye to. On Sunday my church was also canceled, including the scripture reading I had prepared especially for my last day. There simply was no closure to anything. I said my good-bye and shed my tears, and logically I understand that Japan is now so far away…but really, I do not feel like Japan is over.

Personally, I hope that feeling never changes. It makes me realize that Japan shouldn’t ever conclude. The open ending sets me up for an outstanding sequel, of which I am very excited to see. I do not mean returning to Japan, necessarily, but rather this next chapter of my life and I return home. I tested my strength as a person while I was gone, and Japan taught me some unexpected lessons along the way. I now have experiences that most people my age never have.

I traveled half way across the world, entirely on my own. I successfully shopped in a foreign grocery mart—I even figured out what carton is milk! I bathed naked in a public bath. I took classes with students from all over the world. I rode a bullet train. I hiked through Japanese mountains. I saw Hiroshima and prayed. I saw wild monkeys. Ate raw fish, beef intestines and octopus…and liked it. I sampled parfaits all around Kansai. I bought a full kimono set and wore it in Japan. I learned to cook Japanese foods. I know how to perform a simple tea ceremony. I learned to read katakana, hiragana, and 100 kanji. I made friends from almost every continent. I attended church in another language. I read a passage of Japanese in front of a congregation of Japanese locals. I learned how to ride buses and trains on my own. I haggled at a flea market—in a language that isn’t English. I rode a bike around Hirakata and didn’t die. I learned to make pottery from a Japanese potter. I saw an entirely female cast perform at the Takarazuka Grand Theater. I saw the staged Beauty and the Beast in Japanese. I learned how to look people in the eye when I speak to them. I learned to let the stupid things go. I learned to love who I am. I learned to love who I can become.

When it is all said and done, I cannot exactly explain what Japan did to me. I feel stronger. I feel like a person who has a direction and has the will to go that distance. Yet at the same time Japan never ends. There is no conclusion to the learning and the growth I experience through the rest of my life. Japan was and still is a part of that growth; there is no way for it to simply end. Like a faucet filling up a bucket, Japan is part of me and is spread throughout all the rest. It mixes with my past and it will mix with my future, and in the end I will be left with a bucket full of something interesting.

In any case, I am home.