104 Days

104 Days. That's how long we have left in Japan. I apologize very sincerely to anyone for whom that number immediately evokes the "Phineas and Ferb" theme song, as it does for me.

Adelaide graduated from youchien today. It was an incredibly emotional experience, with tears flowing freely down all the parents' and teachers' faces, men and women alike. It was solemn, and heartfelt, and very moving. The next time you watch a movie with a stereotypical "Impassive Asian", just remember that if that hero was at his kids youchien graduation, he would be sobbing into his handkerchief.

I was devastated afterward, out of all proportion to what my daughter's preschool graduation should merit. But as I sit here hours later, with a headache and eyes that are tired from crying, I know that it wasn't ever just about Addie's milestone. Though I am of course incredibly proud of her. It's because this is the beginning of the end of our time in this place that I love and that has been so good to us. This was the first of many painful goodbyes. I'm afraid I will always miss it, that it will always feel THIS bad, even though I know from experience the pain will fade. And I know, too, that I will always miss it. You do, when you love a place and have to leave it behind.

I am so damn sick of moving. I mean, seriously. This is the life of every military family, and most of them have moved farther than I have and have done it more often. And yet being faced with my fifth move in the last twelve years, I'm just so over it. I have loved every place I've ever lived. (Well, OK, I had a love/hate relationship with Rochester, MN but still there WERE things I did love.)  But it's exhausting to keep starting over. You put so much work into arranging life: finding places to store your things, forcing your furniture to fit into new spaces, inundating thrift shops with your less inspired ideas, and that's just stuff. The harder work is gathering your clan, your people that you can text at any hour with random observations, your neighbors that are sure to have eggs, butter, and random spices, and your friends that will cry with you over TV shows and the death of a friend when you can't get home to mourn. It's all about putting down roots, and then when it comes time to move... you have to dig deep, wrap your fingers around those fragile and precious seedlings, and uproot everything, hoping against hope you can replant where you land. It's so painful. And right now? I'm just tired of it. 

Tomorrow will be better. I know that from experience too.

I guess there really isn't any way you could know how much I love my life here, because I've been relatively quiet on social media about it.  I am most driven to write when things hurt, when my thoughts are hamsters running on a wheel and I can't get peace until they're OUT. So in that sense, radio silence is a good thing. I also realized that blogging felt like another burden on my "To Do" list. Like it basically depressed me when I didn't "get it done". Sometime in the last year or so, I gave myself permission not to blog, but just to live. I love social media...you have no idea how much it can mean until you're literally oceans and time zones removed from your people...but there is a pressure that goes along with it. Like a life unInstagrammed is not really lived.  So I said to hell with that and never regretted it.

And yet in all of this, I do want to use my last days, these 104 precious days, to share a few of the myriad things that made me fall in love with this country. Not because I have to, because if I don't, I'm failing, I'm a bad child/friend/parent, but because I want to before time starts to wear away the details.

But if I don't...if the next 104 days pass with little to no posts...I'm OK with that too. I just needed to write this down, to acknowledge that I'm sad because I was happy. And that I wouldn't change that, no matter how much my head aches right now.

Thanks for listening and sending a little bit of love my way, friends.