I just arrived home from a long and luxurious vacation.
Home.
It’s a strange thought. Running through the cold rain with my luggage to get home, it struck me. This ancient apartment, tucked away in the distant north of Hokkaido, has been the place that I’ve lived the longest as an adult.
It’s the place to which I always return, whether I’ve made a short jaunt to the gym or a long haul voyage to my other home.
I know its little quirks. If you use the oven and a space heater at the same time, you will blow out the power. But there are several excellent out of the way closets that are great for storage.
It has been my hospital for two bouts of flu and a place for several rounds of guests.
Sometimes, it is a refuge from the demands of the world and sometimes it is a holding pen I pace restlessly.
But mostly, it is just home.
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