January 3rd, 2023
Dearest Journal,
Today, unlike other days, I will narrate my day in the third person.
Anyway, let’s get started!
E woke in her bed, exhausted from the day before. She shouldn’t have stayed up the previous night because now she was completely drained of all energy. E lay in bed for an hour or so, doing nothing until the clock turned ten o’clock. This was when she decided to finally start her day. Breakfast was nothing new: a pork bun, some rice, and water to drink. E still enjoyed it though as she would indulge herself in something better later in the day. Pondering what to do, a plan formulated in her mind. First, she would go for a walk somewhere, then grab lunch, and eventually take a bus to Japantown for some shopping and good ramen. After making this plan, E made her way outside and started walking down the hill along her apartment.
E had been living in San Francisco, California for one year now. She was born in Boston, Massachusetts. San Francisco was nothing like Boston: there were more Asian people and summers were foggy instead of sunny. Today was yet another foggy day. Walking from her small apartment, E approached a small street full of restaurants at the bottom of one of the many hills of San Francisco. Passing by the countless little restaurants, shops, and bakeries, E was reminded of a strip mall her family often went to when she was a child. In a moment, everything around her had changed. The tall apartment building once next to her was nowhere to be seen, and the foggy mist that had danced around her was now clear skies as E was greeted by the sight of her older brother. It seemed like he was calling her over and telling her they had to go inside to meet their parents. E ran towards him and the store, but as she crossed the threshold, tall apartments reappeared, the weather turned foggy again, and E found herself back in the present. Looking at her surroundings, E felt disappointment well inside her; nevertheless, she continued her journey through the San Franciscan street.
Remembering a small Chinese restaurant that she was fond of, E decided to indulge herself by going. The quality was nothing close to how it had been in Boston; San Francisco’s Asian cuisine was far superior to Boston’s. Despite this difference, E still enjoyed going there; it reminded her of home, and there was something about going to a small Asian restaurant that made her feel nostalgic. There were so many places in San Francisco that did not evoke this same feeling of nostalgia in E. The stucco buildings looked like they had all been made by the same mold, and the gate in Chinatown here felt far less grand than the one back in Boston. Generally, E felt indifference to the architecture here. However, she still couldn’t help but feel at home in places like this restaurant.
Shortly after this lunch, E decided to take the bus to Japantown. There was nothing that felt more natural to her than browsing the various stores, and looking for an interesting pen or book entertained her endlessly. As E arrived, she made a beeline to a Japanese-owned bookstore where she knew she would find something at the very least different from what she had at home. The books here were much different, ranging from topics of history to religion and even the occasional romance novel. Truly, the collection at this cozy bookshop was far superior to what she had at her apartment.
Browsing through the various books, E was reminded of her own collection in her bedroom. Throughout her childhood, she had spent years building small collections of various book series from a local used bookstore her family used to frequent. She still remembered it vividly, the first time her family had visited that bookstore. The books she looked at while there and the ones she had bought, E remembered it all as well as if it were yesterday. E also remembered a large pile of books to be read back in her childhood home. How she longed to go back to that store, to her home; her pile of books almost seemed to beckon her back to it.
After finishing her browsing, E brought her book to the cashier and made her way across the mall. Weaving through the crowds, E occasionally glanced at the windows of stores as she passed by them. After passing by a couple of stores, an overflowing gift store caught her eye, and E decided to go in. The gift store was like any other E had been to in Japantown: crowded, full of Asian themed items, and expensive. Despite this, E felt a longing for home as she walked through it. The crowds in the store made her feel like she was back in her childhood shopping with friends during Black Friday. The adorable little trinkets reminded her of the small collections that dotted her family’s living room. Most of all, the Asian-themed items seemed to make E long for her own culture and celebrating it with her family, oddly enough.
After a bit of browsing through the gift store, E wandered around the mall for a little while more. It was a Tuesday afternoon, but the mall was bustling with people, whether it be tourists or just locals. Japantown always seemed to be one of the busiest places in San Francisco. E felt like a drop of water in the ocean here with how busy the mall often was. For a second, that was just it. E now felt like she was swimming in a pool in her family’s yard, swimming after her brother. E could almost hear her parents saying something to her above the water, but getting bumped by someone snapped her back to reality.
After hearing her stomach grumble, E decided to find a place to eat and settled on a ramen shop. Ramen, just the mere mention of the food set off the memories of eating it at home with her brother. E could smell her father cooking it, adding in egg, fish balls, and the occasional vegetable. When she put the spoon to her mouth, it almost tasted like her father’s soup for a second, but she soon realized it was just the one she ordered as it slid down her throat. E almost cried as she sat there eating.
When was the last time she had remembered something so vividly? When was the last day when she had so desperately desired to go home? When was the last time she missed her family this much?
Her mind called for the familiar little blue house settled in the suburbs she called home. Envisioning the minute details of her house, she wished for the chair swing in the front and even the solar panels on the roof she loathed. E sat there a moment, trying to ponder her thoughts, then finally decided to go back to her apartment.
On the bus back to her neighborhood, E felt an impulse to write about some of her emotions from the day. At the very least, she would attempt to capture them on paper before they, too, were taken away by distance or time. She yearned for her family, for her brother who was always painting, her mother who, like her, was always with a book, and her father who stayed up late helping her with homework even if he didn’t know the subject. E stayed up late that night writing about them; as she wrote, it was like a stream of her consciousness and emotion pouring out of her. By the time she was done and read it all to herself, she knew what she had to do. Since school was on break and she longed for home anyway, E booked a ticket. This was no ordinary ticket; no, it was sending her back to Boston, back to her home.
That will conclude my entry for tonight, and thank you for joining me in this wonderful experimentation (regular programming will continue tomorrow)!
Good night,
E. Kwan.
This was written by our contributing writer, Emma Kwan.
Image Source: Pexels, Marija Piliskic
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