If we were having coffee, we’d be at Bills by the Yokohama Bay. We’d share a nutty coconut bread and a stack of gooey ricotta pancakes. I’d have my usual cappuccino, all the while wishing the mug would magically refill itself. Our loud laughs would probably earn a few stares but who cares? We’re foreigners. We can get away with stuff like that.
I’d be telling you about my frantic morning of preparing lunch boxes, buttered bread smearing the floor, lopsided pigtails and how a snail could put on shoes faster than my four-year-old. We’d surreptitiously check out the slender women around us and envy the way they demurely devour their non-sharing pancake stacks.
I’d tell you that I feel like I blinked and suddenly it’s my one-year being unemployed anniversary (if you can call it that!). I’ve been so busy with exploring a new country, family, and writing, that it’s almost easy to forget I’m jobless. Almost. A year on, not earning my own money still doesn’t sit well with me. I guess a decade of working does that to you. But nothing is forever and I know when I’m back in the daily grind of nauseating office politics, I’ll look back at my time in Japan and miss it immensely.
By now, two hours would have gone by. I’d tell you that I need to drop by the supermarket to pick up something for dinner before school pick-ups. We’d hug each other and I’d leave with a spring in my step.