Closing another chapter

Well, I think my parents just officially moved, b/c I can't get through on their old line. Phooey. The most important phone number for almost half of my lifetime--the number I called when I felt homesick; the number I called whenever I needed more $ during college; the number I called when I finished my finals, graduated, got into grad school, got a new job or quit my old job; the number I called whenever I returned to the U.S.; the number I called to "check in" with my parents every few days when I drove across the country alone at 23; heck, the number I still call once a week or so--is no longer.

And I can't sleep, b/c I'm wallowing in maudlin sentiments (as you can see). I have never actually lived there long enough to legitimately call it home, but there is still that twinge of wistfulness. My brothers, on the other hand--particularly the youngest one, who has spent roughly half of his sentient childhood there--have both lived there for extended periods. I lived there for a year when I did my year "abroad", plus spent many summers and winters there.

In my case, "home" where I spent the bulk of my childhood is a no-longer-extant house in a suburb near NYC. The house that TT and I spent the bulk of our childhood was dozed down several years after we moved out. I have some fond memories of the house and the immediate neighborhood, but given that the physical structure is gone, our former neighbors and friends no longer live there, the old hangout places are gone, the place no longer feels like home. In fact, the last time I drove by my old street (four years ago? Wow. Has it been that long?), I felt an odd emptiness. The place we called home for 14 years no longer exuded that familiar warmth. It was a bit unsettling.

But home is more of a state of mind than a physical location per se. It is a place where your parents still have that silly vase you made back in fourth grade. It is a place where you celebrate important occasions and holidays. A place where traditions and rituals live on. A place where you find the Christmas tree still decked out in the same ornaments and lights from 20, 30 years ago.

Both mentally and emotionally, "home"--and when I say home, I mean 実家, which doesn't have a neat English translation, but the literal translation is "true home"; essentially, it is where one's family/parents are. It's what I used to call "home home" in college, for lack of better word.--has gradually shifted some 6700 miles westward, across the Pacific, from the penumbrae of NYC, to the penumbrae of 東京, where my parents lived, well, until yesterday.

My parents' latest home was in 横浜、in a wonderfully convenient location. 11 minutes by JR to 横浜 station proper, 3 minutes (or walking distance) to the 横浜中華街、and within 15 minutes from some of the best shopping to be done. It was also very convenient to 東京 and other transportation hubs.

The other thing that is significant about this place (my second "home") is that I associate it strongly with my (re)connection with Japan. Since I was born and raised in the U.S., Japan is not home in the sense of home country, nor do I feel any political allegiance to it, but given my family and friends there, I feel very connected to the place. It's not home per se, but I feel very at home when I am there. Over the course of the past 16 years or so, I went from feeling like a complete outsider/foreigner when I first visited my family in their new home, to living, breathing like a "local". Granted, I never stay in Japan for extended periods, but now, whenever I visit, it feels home-ish enough that I feel equally in my element whether I'm here or over there. It's quite a liberating feeling. When I'm over there, the Celsius, the kilometers, the kilograms, the 24 hour clock system--it all makes sense. I have no idea what 24 degrees Celsius converts to in Fahrenheit, but when I'm over there, I know what it feels like. My body and brain automatically make the switch. Thus the 横浜 home is also where I reconnected with my heritage, roots, discovered this other side of me, reforged my identity to incorporate this new part of me, etc.

In some ways, the move feels somewhat like I'm closing a chapter of my life. It also marks a new stage for my parents, who have officially become "empty nesters", with the last of my brothers just having moved out.

The new 家 is closer to the ocean, but farther away from 東京. More inconvenient in that sense, but also much closer to 鎌倉, which is one of my favorite cities, and a good place to get one's 12th century Japan fix, when going to 京都 is not a possibility. Hmm. Maybe not a bad trade off after all.