Admittedly it wasn’t easy leaving Japan behind. In many senses I haven’t yet. I carried home hundreds of articles and papers for my thesis. I maintain links to friends and my supervisor in Tokyo. But Japanese books or songs cannot deny reality. Nor am I helped by the fifteen hour flight through the night, all the way to Brussels. Undeniably, I am home.

Perhaps a little grumpy after the bumpy ride and slow immigration process at the airport, I hadn’t expected anyone to greet me that early in the morning. I considered a train at six in the morning the least bothersome way to continue onwards to some kind of bed, but obviously, none in my family agreed. My Aunt had designed special ‘welcome home’-shirts for herself and my Sister to wear, making Mom stand out in between them. All three fell onto my shoulders, already worn down by my heavy luggage. As the three of them burst into tears and pulled at my arms, I managed to free one of them, sticking it up into the cold morning air. Waiting silently smiling for my fistbump, my Uncle seemed quite happy to have me back. 

Perhaps it’s best to add that Dad and I flew back home together, but as he’d only been away two weeks, my last in Japan, his welcome wasn’t quite as warm. That Tuesday afternoon I pushed through my exhaustion to sort and manage my luggage, already packing the next. I would soon move to Groningen, joining Indi to spend the coming semester up there in the North. 

Wednesday I had no choice but to attend class, besides Indi the main reason for me to return. Thursday I spent the afternoon with my Grandparents, who’d of course received my many postcards and sifted through thousands of my pictures, but who, like everybody else, hadn’t seen me in over a year. Grandma’s tears contrasted with Grandpa’s grand smiles, eager to hear my stories, but also equally eager to have me enjoy the delicious stew he’d spent the past two days preparing.

All was quiet at sunset, back home with a cup of tea. So imagine my surprise when, just after ten that evening, someone behind me snapped their arms closed around my waist. I’d been packing up my bags, ready to head North tomorrow, ready to head to bed tonight. My Sister burst out laughing, quickly followed by the sound of my giggling Mom somewhere in the hallway. My mind raced. Who could it be? Who now stood behind me? I couldn’t figure it out, even though the answer was so obvious. 

Indi has always loved her surprises. Not the scary kind, the happy kind. She loved seeing the confusion on my face, the sudden realisation, and the joy she’d brought. I guess that Wednesday night was her magnum opus. Because, as I squeezed the life out of her, hugging to make up for the months I’d missed her, she laughed victoriously, pumping her fists in the air. I’d never been surprised like that before.