Chapter 68: A Long Hiatus

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Japan Trip 

Two weeks away
from work,
from home,
from people —

felt like rinsing something off my skin.

No roles to perform.
No expectations waiting at the door.
Just movement. Trains arriving on time. Streets that don’t know my history.

And then — snow.

My first snow.

In Kyoto, it fell quietly over temples and narrow streets,
softening wood and stone like the city was exhaling, a light snow.

In Tokyo, it felt surreal —
snow against neon,
flakes dissolving on busy crossings that never really stop, a medium snow.

At Mount Fuji, it didn’t feel decorative.
It felt vast.
Cold that demanded respect,
white stretching into silence, snowed for a few minutes.

And in Sapporo, Hokkaido,
it felt at home.
Thick. Certain. Unapologetic.
Snow that didn’t melt at the first touch, a heavy snow, especially in Otaru.

I watched it land on my sleeves like proof
that I was somewhere entirely different
from the life waiting for me.

I walked without being watched.
Ate without explaining.
Stood in falling snow
with no one asking who I was becoming.

Distance rearranges things.
Problems shrink when they can’t follow you across borders.

Two weeks isn’t an escape.
But it’s enough to remember
what it feels like
to breathe without tension in your shoulders.

Refreshing, yes.

And for the first time in a long time —
light.

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