Winter Wonder

I can barely believe that we’re already in the final month of the year. I’m taking the Hitachi Special Express, a train that has become akin to home. So many hours spent on the Jōban Line — still not enough to have fully expressed just how terrific the mountains are. God help me stay off my stupid phone and keep falling in love with this world — the mountains in-passing, reflections I see in the train window, announcements that echo through each compartment and their reassuring repetition — indeed, this train is headed home.

Looking back on 2024, I can’t help but think how incredibly kind this year has been to me. I’ve been reminded, more than anything else, of how friendships form the heart of everything. I would not know selfless love if it wasn’t for my friends — I wouldn’t ever learn to recognize its soft whisper. Friendship is radical. Anti-capitalistic. Badass. But mostly, it’s love for the sake of love. Just today morning, my roommate paused to ponder upon Sendai’s beloved river Hirosegawa, and proceeded to say something along the lines of how such beauty fills her with an even deeper longing to have her parents visit her — to love means to want to want to show, to want to see, to want to be seen. We took a long walk this morning and deliberately left our phones behind. I’m exhausted of how social media, even with its promise of knowledge and opportunity, threatens to warp the grand phenomenon of everyday wonder. To be able to feel everyday wonder, I realize as time passes, makes everything truly more wonderful. Gratitude may not come easy but when wonder does, it is bound to follow and I’m determined to follow it in turn. Next to me at a café yesterday, two grannies were having the most heartwarming exchange featuring fresh blueberries. I’m sorry I’m late. No, it’s okay. Here are some blueberries for you. There are two kinds. Would you like coffee? I have a letter I’d like to send from the post office in the basement. I think of what it means to leave a legacy behind and I think of this conversation. I insist that this blueberry exchange is part of their legacy. Perhaps I will be the only one to have witnessed it. A sunny Saturday morning in Sendai, the city slowly tiptoeing into winter, my earphones plugged in as I prepare for a meeting. Their voices, mostly muffled but distinct, full of a tenderness that takes years to nurture. Later in the day, I had an English class planned. My monthly sessions with this group of slightly older people always moves me — yesterday, a student shared how she waited four years to try a seasonal chestnut parfait. I wanted to wait till I start receiving my pension so I could indulge. I think about how the fear of missing out would never let me wait those many years to have a parfait. Life defined by a constant urgency vs. an urgent life. The former is an anxiety trap, the latter is what I think life simply is.

It’s starting to get colder. I despised the cold early on. But gradually I’ve learned to love it. Learned love is not a lesser love. The other day, a senpai from college quoted something their friend once posted along the lines of “Sometimes in order to love something you have to watch someone else love it”. I think of having built a snowman with my friend and going to the park the next day to collect his carrot remains. I think of how in my first year here, I was introduced to the kind of hot chocolate you make by melting organic dark chocolate. How marshmallow clouds truly, truly soften the heart. I think of my granny’s simmered pumpkin, which she got to the park just this morning. Our exercise routine followed by our ritual of tea & sweets & songs. I think of the thrill of buying anti-slip, waterproof shoes, which I just did with a dear friend. One could think of it it as a logistical requirement. I want to think of it as a delight.