Author’s Note: This is the original introductory post to this chronicle, written at the end of October before beginning the preparations for our move overseas. My apologies for the delayed publication.
In 2013/14, I penned the passionate pages of Achira Iko! during my first visit to Japan for Oshogatsu, the Japanese New Year. At the end of that volume, I promised a sequel scheduled for the following year in which The Princess and I would move to Kyoto.
Since then, two times have I seen the cold winter rains wax warm to spring showers. The green blades of summer, too, have twice been bent upon the autumn blast. And now for a second time, the rust bright leaves of fall are bursting free from the boughs.
Tucked within our tiny Portland apartment, I sit surrounded by many things which, like the leaves outside my window, must soon be cast away.
Only the essentials will we take with us. For me these are my computer, my bicycle, my stereo, and my two guitars. And perhaps a box of old books and dusty records—for some friends, as you surely know, can never be parted with.
However, the greater part we must leave behind. After all, shipping is expensive, and a suitcase and carry-on can only permit so much.
We have things to pack, things to sell, and things to give away. We have to migrate our businesses with us—for me, freelance writing and web design; for The Princess, handmade filigree jewelry. Client work, too, will pour down upon us. We will sweep through our house packing and cleaning with the force of a whirlwind. And countless other demands will flash like lightning across our path.
I can see the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
Honestly, I cannot even fathom the insane amount of shit I’m going to have to slog through over the next two months.
But even so, rest assured that at the end of December, Achira Iko! will fly again—only this time on a one-way ticket.
Winter will come, and oh! what a storm it will bring…