awaré list

(:title awaré list:)

2005–9−16

Today was the first day to feel like autumn this year. Here’s a short, Shonagonesque list of things that are full of awaré, the sorrow that comes from the passage of time.

• My dad’s hair didn’t used to be gray.
• Libraries are full of books that took someone a lot of time and energy to create but which aren’t read.
• The smell of autumn.
• As I rode the bullet train through Saitama, I saw a towel hanging from the balcony of an apartment building. I will never know the person who hung that towel.
• The old people by the school harvesting rice with their machines.
• The school bento no longer comes in the same size of box all the time.
• Y---‘s hair used to be too short, but now it’s completely ordinary.
• The old calendar pages gathering dust under my couch that I can’t throw out.
• When you realize that you’ll never see someone again.
• The new style of soap dispensers that give foam instead of liquid soap.
• Remembering how you taught the lesson last year.
• When something in the atmosphere reminds you of how you felt your first time in Japan.
• Old shops closing; new shops opening.
• Not being able to remember why or how you wrote something.
• Changing tastes in food or music. Loving something you hated. Hating something you loved.
• When you are disappointed because you don’t see someone who you always see working somewhere anymore. When you do see them, the feeling of sorrow because they seem to always be working.