It's Been a Minute.. and Then Some
An unexpected visitor and reminder of my own history
A bit of a longer break this time, rather unexpected. My mum decided to come to Japan last month and stayed for almost a month. There’s been a lot going on.
It was a last-minute trip. She’d been thinking about coming, and then one Tuesday messaged to say she’d be landing Saturday morning. It was exciting. I decided to surprise her with a trip to Okinawa in the middle — to visit a small island I’d been meaning to see.
She’s seventy next year, and there’s something humbling about being around ageing parents. They repeat themselves, need help with small things like installing apps, and the roles quietly reverse. It’s not new, but each time, something about it feels new. If they’re anything like my mum, they also have infinite wisdom. I do things one way, she does them another. Every time we spend time together, I learn something.
My mum’s energy is unlike anyone I know. After picking her up, I made lunch while she unpacked. We had tea and mini rolls (mostly eaten by me), took a long beach walk, and later that day were at the supermarket buying eggs for breakfast. No signs of jet lag. I think her walk on the sand with the waves gently lapping under the orange sunset, barefoot with Senbei bouncing around, helped. There’s probably some science in that — feet on earth and all that. Dogs too, just being the best.
Over the weeks, we talked in the car, listening to Labi Siffre. She made thepla — Gujarati flatbreads — while I worked, and tucked some in the freezer for after she left. She fixed the pocket on my jacket that ripped last year on a stupid chair in Marunouchi. One night while she ironed, we talked about deeper things. I told her I really was okay.
Love, for her, is leaning into the hard stuff. It’s always been that way — from the clothes she sewed for us when we were little to every hot chapatti she placed on a plate. From sitting in the car during my dance classes to standing up for us when some idiot racists threw stones by the river.
I’ve always felt I had everything I needed with her in my life.
Growing up in Bradford, West Yorkshire, she opened my world to so much — from Indian classical dance and ballet to pottery, violin, the outdoors, and a quiet sense of spirituality. When I told her about my trip to meet the 19th-generation potter, she reminded me that her family caste name, Kumbhar, means “potter.” We still have relatives in India keeping that tradition alive. Some of my shapes, she said, have a similar feel.
Maybe it’s in my blood too.
Now it’s back to projects — lists, clay, stories — and I feel lighter after some time that reminded me where I came from. I also have my thepla for dinner. Make some extra and freeze them for when you’re too busy to cook. Nothing like home food. Ever.
Thanks for reading x
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Bits worth mentioning
Waking up to watch the sunrise in Miyakojima at Cape Higashi Hennazaki is best if you’re a little late — everyone leaves, and you have the whole place to yourself.
Buying a mango ice cream from the old man in the car park is always the tastiest. Once you buy one, everyone else in the car park follows, and suddenly he has a queue and a huge smile on his tanned, wrinkled face.
The smell of kinmokusei blossom now that it’s properly Autumn in Japan is an absolute delight. Go slow on walks and take deep breaths whenever you can.
