“Please hold back your hair ma’am.” The female customs agent does not smile. Pause. My foggy brain struggles comprehending the request. I must not look like my passport picture anymore. Stone faced, she stares at me. I shift baggage. With a free hand grab my hair. I make a feeble attempt at humor. “Hmmm.” She looks at me, then the passport, then at me again. It feels like minutes but I am sure it was only seconds. “Why are you residing in Japan?” she asks in a very serious manner. “My husband’s job.” “Thank you.” Sternly the passport is thrust back to me. I continue on my journey Idaho bound. Taken aback but my attention quickly focuses on the tasks at hand.
Today when I opened these faces looked back at me:
Your Memories on Facebook
Angela, we care about you and the memories you share here. We thought you’d like to look back on this post from 2 years ago.
Looking at these faces fresh off the plane fills me with emotion that spill out with a sob. All the unexpressed feelings of wonder, excitement, tension, joy, gratitude and love of the last two years bursting to the surface.
No wonder she had me pull my hair back.
Last night Rich took me to a beautiful, traditional Japanese eatery on the adult side of downtown. No English was spoken or available. No western influence of any kind. And that was just fine because we are right where we want to be.