Being on the flight to Japan was exciting. I hadn’t been in a long time, and it comforted me to experience it again. And with that, I found myself in a familiar city that had changed with time. The air was slightly cooler than I remember, but it still had a strange quality to it that was familiar.
The falling snow in Sapporo was magical. As one would look down the blocks of mid-rise buildings, the snow created a white haze-like blur that melted at the touch, easing the unease in my heart. Isn’t it strange how the weather works—how God paints the sky with fleeting moments of joy in the cold and brings us light, sometimes in unexpected places? As I committed it to memory, those golden orbs of joy slowly turned blue. It confused me, but I quickly gathered that I felt a little sad not being able to share it with you.
Still, I marched on, ready to enjoy the culture and the plans I had. There were so many things I wanted to and did, share about the trip. But then it got harder and harder to do.
Yes, the thoughts of work and organising the holiday filled my mind, but being apart from you was the hardest. I worry and think about you all the time, wondering if I could do more. And just like that, I felt homesick for the first time.
Whenever I visited a new place, saw something exciting or enjoyed what God revealed to me, I would think of you and be disappointed that you weren’t by my side experiencing it with me. I missed you so so much. During the times I could catch my breath back at the hotels, I would message you sometimes and send you funny reels—anything really to show you that I was thinking of you.
Of course, I knew you were busy, so I didn’t expect you to message me immediately, but it felt lonely without you. I collected small things from every place I went, not knowing it would amount to filling the large wooden box at home. It felt like there was no other way I could show my love for you. And I hope that’s enough.
水 