At 5.30pm on Monday 23rd December last year, I was desperately trying to finish all the work I thought I had to do before my husband and I set off for Japan the next day. In 10 minutes over my lunch break I booked flights for the two of us to go and see my parents, after being told in the morning that my job was extended for 3 months. I had been so nervous about the prospect of my job and I thought the feeling I was getting must simply be relief. But I was over-exhausted both mentally and physically, having juggled two jobs for the previous few months, so my head was all muddled up and didn’t know what to think. I was aware of a nagging voice in my head that kept saying it was a very silly idea to spend so much money, given how precarious my situation was. I pushed that voice to the back of my head and decided to ignore it, because what was the point of worrying now? I’m usually rather cautious and tend to spend far too long thinking about every possibility, which annoys my husband as he is more of a “life is too short” kind of person. On this occasion however I surprised myself and just went for it. Three more pay-cheques were coming my way and the two of us were in dire need of a good holiday, after working every night without getting a penny at my husband’s now failed restaurant. We needed to escape from the past and the nightmare, and I was going to get there no matter where the future took us.
Flying somewhere above Russia at 36,000 feet, I murmured “Merry Christmas” to my husband and then quickly fell asleep, sharing the beginning of Christmas in mid-air with faceless strangers. It was late afternoon on Christmas Day when we finally got to Japan, and I was immediately drenched in the familiar but long-forgotten Japanese winter sunlight. December in Japan is like early summer in Scotland but with added vigour – the warm air touching my skin and the light coming from the considerably closer sun made everything look and feel more vibrant. Pink and yellow orchids were everywhere as we headed for the exit at the airport. Outside the scenery was not exactly pretty, surrounded by concrete multi-storey car parks and the air noticeably less tasty compared to pure, Scottish sea air. The two of us nonetheless breathed in deeply and finally managed to relax. We were away from it all at last, 6,000 miles away from home, from Scotland. We breathed out all our worries and tears from the last few months, slowly emptying our heads and making some spaces so we can start putting something else in, something new.
An early cherry tree was already blossoming near my parents’ house, the place where traces of my childhood memories sat undisturbed but suddenly waking up after all these years to welcome me. Since leaving home I slowly came to realise that time is not infinite and every moment needs to be treated with care, to be cherished and not missed. Just like cherry blossom, it will be gone in an instant if I don’t stop and look. Watching my husband cracking jokes while my parents looked rather bemused, not knowing what to say, I felt immensely happy. Making small memories like this brings the two of us closer, and as our paths continue on to unknown futures, good memories are like fuels that keep us going when the paths get a bit rocky. And we need every bit of fuel we can collect on our way.
We landed at Edinburgh on Hogmanay and travelled back home in a taxi. I watched fireworks while crossing the Forth Road Bridge, feeling the regular bumps from the road and hearing the distant banging sounds, but then fell quickly asleep and didn’t wake till the car stopped outside our house. As we walked into our front door at 15 minutes to midnight, another fireworks started and suddenly I was wide awake. We called my parents briefly to say we got home OK, and then I turned to my husband and wished him a Happy New Year. The beginning of our future had arrived without delay, already slipping into the past in front of us unless we paid attention.
Looking back now I am glad that I made the decision to go and see my parents that Monday afternoon. Now that it is more difficult to travel overseas and not knowing where our collective future is heading, it just happened to be the right thing to do at that time and I was very lucky. But I know we can’t rely on luck and there is nothing more true than the fact that we don’t know what the future will bring us. So I don’t know where I will be this Christmas and I don’t know when I get to see my parents next. One thing I know however is that I will keep plodding on because every step I make will take me where I am meant to be, the future that I choose to embrace with open arms. And I am lucky to have a companion on this journey, an unwritten story that the two of us are writing together, hand in hand and with our eyes wide open.