LIFESTYLE

A WRITER’S LIFE IN NYC

ò To you, Papa

My father died two years ago today.

 

One of the few things my parents and I have ever agreed on was that I would seek an education and a career in the States, far from our two countries of origin: France and Japan. Even so, as my parents helped to provide me with the means to do so and as I made my way in life hoping they would share in my successes, we remained estranged.

 

In time, my father and I wove a friendship. Our relationship had its ups and downs, but we spoke and exchanged emails with constancy.

 

When my father died, we were on different continents. I flew to France to carry his ashes to their resting place in Nice. Earlier in 2009, almost two years after my father's death, I grieved. At last, I forgave myself for not making him as happy as I should and I absolved him for not protecting me as he should.

 

Today, what endures is the picture of a father and daughter together in friendship.

Journey of a thousand miles

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”

Lao-Tzu

 

When I lived in Japan as a college senior, I took one step that changed my life.

 

I was adrift in the many parties and clubs Tokyo had to offer, just wishing to go far, far away from my family. One night in December, in the midnight hour of Harvard’s GSAS application deadline, I rode full-speed on the back of my boyfriend’s motorcycle to Tokyo’s 24-hour post office. A few months later, I came back from an evening of clubbing to find, in a thick envelope lying on my bed, the acceptance letter that made me fall to my knees in thanks. My wish came true. Only, after it did, I began to miss home.

 

The real journey of the past two decades has taken place within me, although I’ve had more than ten addresses, seven jobs, and two graduate degrees. That’s just it: as long as what I pursued over the miles were top honors, a great career, or social acceptance, I was really going nowhere. No, that one step I took when I was twenty years old only changed my life because after it came many other steps that each reaffirmed my belief in myself. So, at mile, say, four hundred and thirty-five of my thousand-mile journey, I’m standing still and, looking around me at the landscape of my past, I sigh, “With each step, I’m closer to home.”