21st August 1997, Otaru
The time is 2:47am and I am at my desk overlooking what is a barren and empty sight before me. A singular shawl is strewn across my bed. It was my mother’s from the eighties – rather fashionable in those days, but not so much now. There is a bonsai tree by my windowsill which has not been watered in months, and has wilted, arid leaves. Like most nights, the familiar hum of crickets slips through the crannies in my window – normally this would bother me, but tonight it doesn’t for some reason. My fathers’ old desk lamp is propped up on a stack of comic books – its fitful flickering is faintly lighting up the room. In the corner of my room are two suitcases which hold the contents of most of my life’s belongings.
Although my eyes are heavy and an unpleasant burning sensation is emerging in them from the constant flickering of the lamp, I am determined to stay awake. It seems almost a waste to sleep when, in just six hours, I’ll be leaving the town I have lived in my entire life. I have told myself that starting new will be exciting and that there is so much to look forward to at university. In fact, I have been telling myself this for months leading up to today.
But it seems that tonight everything I have convinced myself of doesn’t count.
The time is 3:01am. In the corner of my vision is a blurred image of the night sky. Immediately I am drawn to my window, tempted to spend hours admiring the sky – and so I do. I press my nose against the shuddering glass and overlook the neighbourhood – the gravel streets, children’s shoes arranged neatly on doorsteps, cycles bound to poles – before turning my gaze to the sky. It is deep and boundless, like I have always remembered. Above tall city buildings in the distance, the moon hangs low against a rayless tapestry – a pale and ghostly orb that illuminates the night sky – and tiny pearlescent jewels are scattered beside it. The moon’s eerie light casts an otherworldly shadow against the town, and once familiar shapes have turned grotesque and unsettling. A shadowy, yet sentimental reminder of winter in Otaru.
The stars must bring back a lot of memories for me, because suddenly I can imagine myself as a young boy of six. The sun is penetrating through the clouds, leaving it with a sunkissed glow. Sandals and slippers are rambling everywhere, and sand is dusted upon beach hats and shoes. The syrupy smell of freshly cut grass lingers in the air, and the hysterical shrieks of children playing tag could be heard from a mile away. My mother stands in the distance with that sunhat she always used to wear. Her favourite dress is moving with the wind like waves on the sea, and her eyes are wincing from the sun. In her hand is a bottle of sunscreen, and she’s gesturing at me to come over so she can lather it onto me. I am ignoring her of course, continuing to chase my friends, because playing tag seems like the most enthralling thing in that moment. The memory I have of my father is hazy, so I cannot imagine what he might’ve been doing then.
As the sun starts to cool down slightly, my friends and I made our way down the road, walking barefoot on a sandy pavement, the hot earth warming our feet. We’re headed down to the convenience store in search of a cold refreshment. In our pockets lie fifty Yen each – barely enough to buy us a packet of gum but somehow, we’d end up convincing the newsagent to let us off. The air is noiseless and hardly a single car passes us on the walk, the pavement is empty, and a slight breeze sets us on our way. My skin is hot and sticky, and my nose is peeling from a terrible sunburn, but it doesn’t bother me because all that mattered then is what I am going to do with my fifty Yen.
I am back in my room again, sat quietly. I cannot remember more of Otaru, which has left me feeling both melancholic and strangely content. I’ve come to realise that whilst my past will always comfort me, it feels almost refreshing that in a few short hours I get to start over.
In the midst of this profound uncertainty, I have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything is exactly how it should be. That the universe is unfolding as it is destined to.
