There is a hint of melancholy in the autumn air, a sense that the year is coming to an end, that some things must die and life is delicate.
Overnight the landscape is transformed- it is as if God had decided to sit Himself down, and with a click of His marvelous mouse, photoshopped the leaves from green to red.
This is how I know autumn is here- the little path I take that is made of stone slabs is now covered with dried leaves fallen off the trees that once provided shade in the summer heat, and the leaves crackle under my feet.
Spring is too short, summer is too hot, winter is too harsh- but how can you not be in love with autumn? Autumn is perfect.
But still last night as I closed my eyes, I found my thoughts drifting to familiar scenes back home- like, having watching silly late-night Taiwanese variety shows with my siblings and laughing out loud every ten seconds, because it is a language I understand, or walking over to the kopitiam in my oversized tee and flip flops sans make-up to get my daily fix of kopi, because nobody cares how I look, or sitting in my mother's car with Teresa Teng in the player and singing along with my mum to songs that are so familiar to me, I have heard her songs being played in Hong Kong, in Thailand, in Japan, and every time they have brought tears to my eyes.
The notion of home can be arbitary- I left home to come to Japan to discover myself, and now I am leaving my second home and going back to rediscover, reacquaint myself. I know that people do this all the time- they uproot, resettle, reinvent, grow new roots and many never return home, but I have by choice decided to go back and this is my journey to take.