"So, do you think you could live in Japan?"
My brother's best friend turns toward me as I delicately dip my dessert spoon into the custard-like dollop of purple cream on my plate. He picks up his coke and takes a swig.
"I love my home in Portland," I say with a smile that betrays vague feelings of guilt. I put the spoon in my mouth. Lychee. And something else purple-flavored. Lavender, maybe? French-inspired. Unusual flavors for my American palate. Delicious.
He's not serious, really. Not joking, either. Just making conversation. A friendly guy, good heart. Flew up from Singapore with his mother to officiate at my brother's wedding.
My baby brother. He's married, now. To his beautiful wife. My Japanese sister. She radiates kindness and intelligence. A level of wisdom that one might not expect from a 29-year-old woman. I was afraid, you know. The kind of afraid you feel when you reflect on your own track record with relationships and wonder if the closest human being to you on the planet might be caught in the same cycle. I was afraid, you know, that she might be a bitch.
She's not.
She's amazing.
The two of them dance around the dinner table, giggling, beaming, shy, their love for one another on display for all to see. They are more than lovers: they are best friends.
I miss my brother. I knew in my heart that I missed him, but 4 years and the vastness of the Pacific Ocean diluted the ache. Being here, seeing him, his incredible life... I am so proud of him. I don't want to go home. Not yet. I need more time. I want to be satiated. Oversaturated. Enough at least to renew our bond as siblings and bicker about meaningless shit.
The food is better, here. Cleaner. More nutritious. Hell I think I can even eat their gluten.
There are crows here, too. Big, beautiful Jungle Crows with large bills and deep, nasally voices.
But they are not my crows.
And it is not my home. It's my brother's.
Osaka is a huge metropolis. Beautifully designed and immensely fascinating, but not enough wild nature for me. Maybe somewhere in the beautiful Japanese countryside there's a cabin in the woods with my name on it, but it's a cabin in the woods in another land that is not my beloved Pacific Northwest.
Do I think I could live in Japan?
No.
But there is love here, and for that I will return.
Again.
And again.
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