One Year of Living in My Japanese Akiya – Reflective

3 months ago 2

At no point was I sure that I would be able to live the full year in Japan. There were factors that were always out of my control. The Japanese visa system, the house itself, the weather, my own emotional state, living apart from my teenage daughter.

Over the course of a year, Satoshi Manor became itself and in some very real sense, I also became myself. This is my home. It will always be my home. It’s funny, until this became true, I always harbored a fantasy about getting enough money to buy my childhood homes - flawed though they were. The home that my parents divorced in and the home that I discovered my love for land and water. That desire has now been laid to rest.

My adult home is everything those homes were and more - plus it is a happy place. There has been so much joy here already - just in a year. The friends I’ve hosted - both old friends and new - giving my daughter the chance to finally discover her home. The playing in the garden, tinkering, creating art, writing books, and maybe even finding love - all of these things. These are what a home is for, what it should be.

I’m so imprinted on this home and it is so imprinted on me. Challenges still await. I’m not Japanese so I can’t live here full time. The Japanese visa system is still a huge issue but I will be working on creating a decentralized existence with this as my anchor, my home base. Even if it reaches the point where I can only spend three months a year here, it won’t matter. I will make it work and knowing it is here is all that matters as I travel the globe. Home is where you hang your hat. My hat is hung. Home is where the heart is, my heart is here. Home is where you have roots, my roots are planted. Home.

It was all I was ever seeking. I wasn’t a vagabond because I didn’t want to settle, I was a vagabond because I needed to settle and find my place. Now that I’ve found it, I don’t have to stop and things are so incredibly different already. My father is gone. The lingering hope that he would somehow fulfill his promises and rescue me from being homeless dies with him. And, funny enough, now I am not homeless. I will never be homeless again. Itinerant - sure. Nomadic - definitely. But not homeless.

This will be the last post here. You need to go subscribe to my adventures at https://indignified.substack.com . It’s free but if you want to support all the work I’ve done and will continue to do become a premium subscriber. $8 a month is less than having one nice coffee in a thirty day period.

I look forward to sharing more with you.

~CD (who is no longer vago)

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