"Winter," Toshi explained, "is a time of discomfort. But it is also a time of endurance, and we look forward to the hope of spring, the blossoming of flowers."

And so it is I find myself counting down to the arrival of spring. My skin, unaccustomed to the harsh weather, has been itching from my dry rash. I am constantly stuffing myself with food to stay warm, and for the lack of something else to do. When the train door opens, cold air forces its way in like a crowd of anxious commuters and it is almost unbearable. I secretly put on my summer dresses in my room and imagine the day when it would be warm enough for me to parade in them.

This is only my first winter, I reasoned, and the same time next year I will be more prepared.

I endure the constant coldness in my hands and feet. I endure the restlessness refuses to leave. I endure the homesickness that envelopes me in the dead of night when I am alone in bed. I button up and endure.

Labels: confession, tokyo, winter

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