Last Night in Nishiokoppe

The boxes are packed and taped up. Our clothes for tomorrow sit, waiting, on top of the sadly empty dresser. Ridge and Holt spent the entire day playing at Komu with a few friends while I finished all those mind-numbing details that one must deal with when moving. Though the day began cold and drizzly, it slowly shifted and the sun came out just enough to warm things up a bit. There was still a little nip in the air, though, and the house was perfectly cool as I moved around, listening to the quiet summer sounds of our quaint village home. One of my favorite things about this house has always been the large wall-like windows that provide an amazing cross breeze, paired with the delightful peace of Nishiokoppe. We spent many a day sitting on our couch here looking out the front window into the street and watching the boys play with the neighborhood children. For two years we didn’t worry about their safety and we gradually fell into the routine of taking turns minding the mob of kids. Sometimes we would sit outside for hours while children’s bikes flew up and down the road, sometimes Grandma Otasaka, sometimes Ryuuya’s mother. We rarely spoke, but yet we had little trouble communicating with each other. It always felt like we were living in a postcard.

I'm so sad to leave here that I almost decided not to write tonight. As I cleaned and packed today, visitors dropped by at almost regular intervals. Everyone knew we were busy getting ready, so no one wanted to stay and bother us, but the just dropped off their good-bye gifts for us. Sometimes it was toys for the kids, sometimes something for the family. My morning English class (a.k.a. English Cooking School) put together a priceless little photo album with short English messages for me. Needless to say, I’ve been crying off and on most of the day.

Last Monday was my last day at the elementary school, so the kids had the customary farewell party for me. They made little speeches to me in Japanese, gave me cards they had made, and we played some games. Afterwards, it was my turn to speak. The following day, Tuesday, the first and second grade had a farewell party for Ridge. According to his teacher he cried a couple of times. The kids made some really lovely cards for Ridge, too.

Wednesday was the final day of school. After the official closing ceremony, they switched gears into to official farewell ceremony for me. I managed to make it through my speech without too many tears. I sensed that some of the girls were only able to hold it together because I was holding it together. You know how it is with women; when one breaks down, we just all fall apart and start sobbing, right? I read a bit in English and then Mr. Kurata read the Japanese. Afterwards, the student body president, my wonderful, amazing student – Akane – came to formally thank me and make her speech to me. This time, though, she spoke in Japanese and Mr. Kurata translated for me. I would love, desperately, to just pack her up in one of our boxes and take her home. She has been the student who has excelled the most with her English, and she and I have been exchanging a sort of conversational journal for the past 18 months. She is a really wonderful young lady and I am going to miss her terribly.

Later that night, the middle school teachers had the customary end-of-semester party paired with my farewell party. It was quite a touching evening for me. We had a barbecue dinner in the same place as my very first party. With Mr. Kurata’s help, I was able, during my final speech, to thank all the teachers for letting me be a part of their school and for taking such good care of me. It was a very difficult moment for me.

Friday saw me going to my last farewell party, this one thrown by the first grade mothers. Ridge’s teacher came along, as did Mrs. Shimono (the doctor’s wife). She speaks great English, so I was able to get a lot of the conversation translated. My Japanese is far and away much better than it was two years ago, but after a few beers some of those moms just talk too darn fast for me to follow! It was a fun evening, though, and I finally got some interesting gossipy-dish on the neighborhood. Let’s just say that several things we had always wondered about were finally (after two years) explained. At the pre-school, Holt also had a farewell party. I guess the Japanese feel that farewell parties and welcome parties are really important.

So, I’ve spent the rest of my time getting things prepared and making sure the kids get in plenty of play time with their friends. Aaron has been super helpful by making sure I don’t have to cook or clean the kitchen. We both acknowledged shortly after our wedding that I’m way better at packing than he is, so we settled our roles a long time ago. It works well, and I appreciate being able to just focus on packing and preparing the house each time we’ve moved.

Tomorrow we’ll get an official “thanks for doing a great job” from the mayor and a big send off. It seems customary for friends and neighbors to gather at a person’s house when they leave. So, we’ll load up the village van and all our friends will be around to shake hands and wave good-bye. I plan on using up an entire box of tissue. We’ll then drive 5 hours to the airport and spend the night. On Tuesday, we leave Hokkaido and fly to Tokyo, then it's 12 hours to Atlanta and another 2 hours to Dallas.

We’ve made so many friends and have had such a wonderful experience here that it is truly painful to say goodbye. Today, as Ridge and Holt played in the house with Maya and Misaki, I found myself thinking about how much I’m going to miss the sound of my children playing in Japanese. I will miss the beautiful and distinct changing of the seasons and their accompanying festivals. I’ll miss being able to walk around the village, hearing my students’ greetings as I go about my business. There’s a lot we will miss.

Here is my “Cooking School” class as we pose during our final meeting – a potluck at my house.