Place

I'm sitting here at my home in the United States, drinking a can of Seltzer, roasted veggies in the oven, listening to music over nice, quality speakers in a nice, spacious room.

Home for the holidays.

Sparkling water, or the Seltzer equivalent, is relatively expensive in Japan. I can't make roasted veggies in my little microwave and tiny kitchen, and even if I could manage it somehow, I couldn't find all the ones I'm used to. I'd be listening to music via my laptop speakers, and the sound would consume my entire apartment, which is smaller than the one room I'm in right now.

I just got back from a doctor's appointment. Well, I had to get my blood drawn. I walked in and they were doing construction work, so the reception desk and blood draw office were in a different spot from usual. I walked up to the receptionist at the entrance and asked where to check in. I checked in and was directed to the waiting room. I got my blood drawn and left.

Not one look of surprise upon seeing me. No awkward attempts to speak English. No slight panic as I realized that not everything was as it should be, leaving me to ask where things were. No awkward looks from other patients upon entering the waiting room. Paperwork I could fully read. No haphazard exchanges with the nurse as I tried to explain what I was there for.

There's cars in the driveway. I recognize everything at the supermarket. I can ask for directions or things I need flawlessly. I'm not commuting on a crowded sardine bus every morning, and although that's partially because I'm on vacation, I don't think it would be happening even if I wasn't.

It's comfortable here. Comfortable and familiar.

Oh, beautiful New England.

I'm surrounded by people I love. On the off chance I met some random asshole, I'd have them to go back to at the end of the day.

In Japan, I have met dragons, and had nobody to go to for solace.

It's not comfortable there. It's lonelier, harsher, awkward and unpredictable.

And in Akita, it's frozen. The kitchen is cold and the bathroom is colder. The streets are sheets of ice and the city is white as a sheet. Central heating is nothing but a myth there.

And yet, I cherish the time I've spent there, and look forward to the remaining time I will spend there.

Obviously, not because it's comfortable.

The fire of that land has helped me grow in ways I could have never done had I remained in this comfortable place. Or should I say the biting cold?

I am here at home, loving each and every one of the comfortable things I have mentioned with unbridled affection. Before I left, I took them all for granted.

Japan is no inhospitable wasteland. It's a country full of (mostly) friendly people, conveniences we don't have, natural beauty and wonderful food. And in Akita, the snow is nearly constant, and always beautiful. It falls often, and vanishes before it can turn into that ugly brown color that snow does the day after. And then it falls again, as beautiful as before. I really love the snow.

But it's also an alien place. And while I am there, it never lets me forget that.

I would have stayed a bit longer, another year, perhaps. I would have shoved that biting cold lance further into my heart in order to learn and grow and change into an even better person who cherished the things from his home even more deeply. And despite the lance, I did - I have - grown to love it there, especially its people and its communities, their inherent value of which none of the discomfort can dilute.

It's not over yet, but it will be, soon.

I gave up a lot to be there, and I gave it my all while I was there. And I'd do it again, too.

But I think I have other places to be.

I just wish I knew where.