The sky was delicious today. Purple and orange. I went out shopping and sat in the car waiting for the rest of my team who didn't seem to be able to get in and out as fast as I did. I drank coffee with a straw and watched the sunset--watched the colors get darker and more vivid, watched everything fade.
There's a typhoon coming. On the way home the wind slammed against the car. When the car stopped, I heard the sounds of the waves crashing behind the seawall.
Yosh and I did something spontaneous and left our stuff in the car to run in highheels along the ocean. Running with the wind was like flying, running back was like running on a treadmill. We yelled into the wind and laughed like kids.
Yosh is leaving...
Yoshimi and I grew up together, from the nasty age of 3, I think it was. I don't remember life without her. She always was the prim, sophisticated, classy, neat and tidy, creative, talented, strong older sister. Sometimes she'd use her brains for evil (like running this gambling game that was so heavy that the rest of us couldn't follow. We trusted her when she told us we lost because she was slimy enough to make us win SOME of the time. Yes, this mind evolved from the scum of the earth.) and sometimes she'd use her brains for good--but she'd never LEND her brains. Oh no, never. The two-year-sibling copycat in me was trampled upon by Yoshimi's ceaseless reprimand to "be different!' "stop copying!" "draw your own barbie!" "quit copying my trends!"
Secretly I know she loved having me be worse at everything--thank me for your self-esteem, Yosh, because it was at the expense of mine!!!
I weep bitter tears. No, seriously.
We did everything together. We drew, we played, we exercised, we sang, we danced, we witnessed. We did school from the same social studies text book. We slept in the same room. We struggled through the same boring reading lists.
Ha, hell, we were even together the first time Satan tried to tempt us to smoke. You, oh strong one, resisted with valor. I still defend the fact that I only FAKED it.
But then, despite all the respect and adoration I had for you, you were always my equal. You never made me feel small. People came, had comparing trials, and went. I understood their problems and marvelled that I didn't feel the same. Maybe I ran out of contempt for you in kindergarten.
I remember the first time I realized you were older than me. You started watching different movies...you started going to different camps...you started drinking... You know how sad I felt every time.
I think this year is the first year I'm going to the same camp as you. Ironically that camp will be the last of our days together. Back in the same class, back in the same age group...you, Steve, and I--the kids of Shizuoka home. A bunch of other people besides, but you know how they say it all fades into nothing. We can exchange a few of those "suspended in time" "no one but us" looks...and then we'll know that everything's gonna be okay.
I remember how much we hated it when they called us kids. Now they call us teens. It's still exclusive, isn't it. Soon they'll call us adults...and we'll hate that too.
You made life a celebration. You bought me my first crepe to celebrate some first happy experiences (heh). You bought wine to celebrate the livehouse...and yet again to celebrate my emerging into the world of 16+. You saw me stressing about what to wear at a show and you offered to fix my favorite shirt with a rip--you did it all by hand. You indulged me when I got the sudden urge to lie down on the pavement and stare up at the stars. You bought me ice creams when I had no money. You said "this hurts me more than it hurts you" when you stole my snacks so I wouldn't get fat(ter). You were there for me anytime I needed a "slap back to reality". You didn't protest when the adults suggested that I, the scummy, messy, inspirational mad scientist, move in with you, the clean cat-loving plant-lover. Those little things meant a lot to me.
Now that we've become different people--you the never-seeming-to-be-able-to-make-successful-conversation-with-new-people, happy, dancing, beautiful, stylish, poised, practical-minded MATH woman--me the blundering, talkative, self-absorbed, emotional, passionately insane, inspirational and mad, LANGUAGE ARTS woman (girl? woman? womirl?)--people expect us to be totally different. And then they get close to us and realize how alike we are--tastes, apprehensions, feelings...and they realize we came from the same mix. Even Rick managed to comment (with not a little disdain) that we were very alike.
Yes, folks, get to know me and YOU CAN GET IN YOSH'S PANTS!!! The secret is out!!! Swarm to me, for I am the keeper of the KEY!
Heh...don't kill me.
I tip my glass to you, Yosh. Not to a perfect woman, not to any one memory, not to any noteworthy virtue--but a perfect whip of human. I toast your love, your friendship, your loyalty, your sacrifice, your patience, your compassion, your fun, your giving, your taking, your teaching, your learning.
I guess in a way you and I together made one person. You're leaving...and that person is dying. But that person lived a long, fulfilled, happy life, and she's not afraid of the Darkness into which she is passing. Time to say bye bye.
Whoa, somebody forgot to take off their GLASSES...
And a group shot (about half of us foreigners) with the producer, director, mixing engineer...etc... (left2right, me, rick, steve, and Mom)
