A Few Inches To The Left
Returning home is weird. The everyday life that I had wanted to leave behind, with some distance, now feels like a magical thing. The scenery, the people, the culture that I once knew so intimately, now feels both different and familiar at the same time.
As I was in the car heading home, my parents asked me how it felt to be back, a common question I would get while visiting home. I never was able to come up with a concise answer. It’s like walking into your house, and everything is exactly how you remember it, but just a few inches to the left.
When I got back home it was like being overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu. It had been months since I’d been home, and yet it felt like it could have been hours. The family dog slowly bounded down the stairs to come greet me. My cat made a quick appearance before darting off. I went into the kitchen and dropped my bag on the barstool tucked into the island. It felt as natural as breathing.
I took my suitcase upstairs and took a moment to just let it sink in. The moment I walked into the house I could feel myself relax, almost in ways that have been off limits in Japan. I’ve lived in this house for probably close to 20 years, it makes sense that it conjures feelings that can’t quite be matched anywhere else.
I didn’t sleep all that well on the plane, but I was feeling pretty energized. I had made an appointment to get my drivers license renewed, since my Canadian license had expired while I had been away. My Japanese license would still let me drive, but it would be nice just to get that taken care of.
One of my friends wanted to meet up, so I picked them up from Skytrain, and had them tag along with me to the licensing center. It wasn’t the most exciting first hangout, but they’re the type of person you want by your side even during the most mundane activities. Thanks to having them with me, it was probably the most fun I’ve ever had getting my license renewed.
With my temporary license in hand, I dropped my friend off at Skytrain, and headed home. I had a lovely dinner with my family, playing Wordle together at the table. I hadn’t played since I left, and it seems like they hadn’t either. We all could have kept playing, but what always made it fun was puzzling out the daily word together.
My energy had started to crash by this point in the day, but I had one more thing left to do, I was going to see the bride and groom to be. It made me feel a little special that so many people wanted to see me the very same day I landed back home. I had one of my parents drop me off at Skytrain, and made my way into Vancouver.
It was weird being on Skytrain again. I’ve taken plenty of trains in Japan, but the atmosphere on Skytrain was just so different. I was always glad Vancouver had Skytrain, and it seemed like a better public transportation system than many cities have. After being in Japan though, I can see just how much better it could be.
The stations lack the public bathrooms available at every single station in Japan. The platforms are unorganized, and train manners and etiquette is more of a free for all. The train cars are smaller, and probably use the space less efficiently than trains in Japan. It’s surprising that Skytrain, which only has two major lines, seems to be lower quality than even the smallest of the dozens of Tokyo train lines.
Disillusionment with Skytrain aside, I kind of liked being back on Skytrain. I think of all the early mornings I spent sleeping on the train, going to school or work downtown. All the busy weekends I would spend with my friends. Skytrain was a surprisingly big part of my life in Canada, and maybe I missed it, even if it could be improved, I feel some small ownership over it.
After a fair bit of ruminating, I got off at my stop, and made my way over to my friend’s place. When they opened the door I was met with a few squeals of delight, big hugs, then launching back into our normal hangout stuff. We talked, we complained, we drank, it was fantastic.
They had the exact same sentiment as me, it had been months since we’d seen each other, and yet it felt like only a few weeks. I wasn’t sure if I should tell them what I did last weekend, or months ago. I’m grateful for friends where we can just pick up exactly where we left off. Within minutes it felt like I had never even left.
The hours flew by and it was time to start heading back home. As I got ready to leave though, they invited me to crash on their couch. I’d done this many, many times before, and I was happy to take them up on the offer once again. So we stayed up for a few more hours, before I eventually began to fade.
I slowly drifted off to sleep, happy as a clam on my friend’s couch. All I could think about was how glad I was to be home. How grateful I was for my friends, my family, to see my cat again, to be home. The first day was easily the most surreal, but I would be grappling with similar feelings throughout the rest of my visit.
You’re surprised by just how green nature is, how warm it feels to embrace and talk with your friends and family. How old the family dog has gotten, the feeling of your cat’s fur in your hands. You know all these things to be true, and they’re just like you remember, but they feel new, and somehow even better.
It all feels strange, and yet you know these things are deeply ingrained in your very being. They’re all a part of who you are, and you’d never been without them, until now. They say you don’t know what you had until it’s gone, and it’s true. It’s easy to take things for granted until you’ve had to live your life without them.
You didn’t realize just how much you missed all the things you took for granted. How much the little things piled up to become a part of who you are. I’ve loved everything I’ve experienced in Japan, but one thing I never expected was falling in love with home all over again.
Coming home is remembering the pieces of yourself that you left behind.
