“Hey I know you like green, and so I saw this backpack you might like. It tooootally reminded me of you”. “Oh cool! Let’s go then! What are we doing talking?!”.
Down the kawaramachi-dori and passing the plentiful stores with clothes, food, manga, music, more food, and more clothes. All the T-shirts have poor Engrish skills or something completely hilarious like “My sister is hot”. There are no bar detectors, all stores open, students with ties loosened and heavy designer bags decorated with keychains, older men and women taking a lunch break from work, a random gaijin towering over everybody taking his time down the street. At the store we arrive and immediately, like a frog tracking its food, I spot the backpack. At the very top. Labelled for 1,000 yen. No designer labels. No complicated design. Just a simple neon green bag with thin straps. Perfect for this trip and the weather. There was no need to think about it. I went straight for it, ignoring everything else in the store, and taking it off the wall. Payed for it. And that was that!
It came very handy during that trip. It was not heavy in any way, even after putting the few necessities (notebook, wallet, passes, towel, fan, etc), and the instances where we had to carry our own trash, it never became an annoyance. During the hottest days, bra already soaking wet in sweat, hair turned tight curly, immediate tan, the neon green backpack understood its role and executed it perfectly. My shoulders never ached, my back never ached.
All of us are waiting for the plane to arrive. Some of us start playing connect 4, reading (or attempting to read) magazines with the hot Jpop singers on the cover, buying ice-cream and other food we will come to miss, talking about our different situations with our host families, walking around the airport, and there are the few who can sleep. But I kept thinking about all the memories I have had with this bag. Once my eyes are set on it, I get flashbacks of why there is a little smudge by the top handle, why the side pockets are difficult to open, all the things I had kept in the front pocket. And now I have had the pleasure to remember these experiences and keep them close to my heart.
Today, I am sitting in yet another airport. Waiting. Waiting to return home, waiting for the next text message. My neon green backpack, again is with me packed with my school book, a notebook, folder, pen and pencil, headphones, ipod, charging cable, wallet, boarding ticket, toothpaste, toothbrush, sunglasses and nothing more. It did not always stay close in this trip, but only when it was needed was when I had experienced something amazing.
That day I only needed a change of clothes for later in the day, and my school book and notes to study for the morning time. I have never done this before, and I wasn’t sure if the day would become boring, exciting, or horrible. We go out for breakfast, come back to the apartment and head out again to take the longest walk I have ever taken on a beach. Time went so quickly that by the time we return to the apartment, my feet are swollen, shoulders, face, chest, arms, and legs tanned yet again, and my backpack waits for me. Tells me, “it’s ok. I have what you need. No worries and you will be fine. :) Trust in your feelings”. We eat again for lunch, and I take the time to study. Comfortably sitting on the couch, notes spread around me for easy access, music playing. Neon green backpack is on the floor next to me. He keeps getting closer, and closer to a point where I cannot deny my feelings. It’s ok. I have what you need. No worries and you will be fine. :) Trust in your feelings. As the announcement starts, I stand and walk towards the gate, backpack over my shoulder, suitcase in one hand, cellphone in the other always ready for the next text message. I find a good window seat, put the suitcase away and keep the backpack on my lap.
Buzz ~I’m going to wave, so be polite and wave back yea?~
~I can’t do that because I’ll cry. I’ll put my hand on the window instead.~
We keep texting, the plane starts to lift off. I put my burnt hand on the window, palm facing the outside, face facing the window so the people sitting next to me don’t see my tears. I hate goodbyes, and I never look back. Except for two times in my life. The first time, my neon green backpack was over my shoulder carrying the yukata I had used earlier that day. Both my teacher and I were crying. This time, it carries the scent of someone I have gained in my life who taught me, tenho saudades tuas. I tightly grip my neon green backpack.
