Liminal space

I often have to remind myself that despite living in Japan, which often induces whimsical airs, life goes on back home.

What's my current definition of "home." Well, I guess it's a pretty fluid idea right now. On the one hand, it's where I have a new niece, who apparently pumps the air with her adorable little fists as she wears a superhero costume. It's where my parents have just wrapped up a lengthy vacation in the States. It's where my brother is achieving a good balance between school and social spheres. It's where my godson, nieces and nephews are growing up, probably wondering who exactly is Auntie Gem.

My second home would have be the little nest I've made in the Japanese countryside. This is the place where kids will ring my doorbell, hoping to play with "Gemma-sensei." Here, my car, which drives like a really nice lawnmower, travels at a comfortable speed of 60 km/h. And just today, a sturdy brown cow escaped my neighbourhood's stables where it was being "appraised."In fact, the cow ran alongside my school's soccer field during second period. The entire school stood at the windows, as we watched the farmers madly chase the fugitive. (The cow managed to dash across rice fields and our soccer field. It then went up the hills of Motomiya, where one of the farmers finally caught him.) My JTE chuckled, and said "Well, did you see the running beef? It looked delicious."

I digress. So, I've collected all of these funny anecdotes from living in Japan. But sometimes, reality hits you. I've realized some pretty epic - both good and bad - things have happened back home in Canada. I'm still learning how to live through this liminal space between home and home.