Just Another Cold Winter Night

 

On Christmas eve, I was invited by a Japanese friend to have dinner with his family at their house in Fushimi-ku.  He and his ten-year-old son had been doing some Christmas shopping downtown so at around six, we met up at Takashimaya and walked all the way to Shijo-Karasuma, where my friend’s older sister was waiting at the parking lot where he had parked the family van.

 

We left Shijo at half past seven and had to make a couple of stops along the way so that we were all starving and pretty much exhausted when we got to their place.  We were greeted by my friend’s wife who had apparently finished setting the table ages before we arrived.  The food had obviously gotten cold.  Nevertheless, dinner was great since it was my first time to have makizushi (rolled sushi) that I had to wrap by myself while eating.  It was quite easy.  The only thing that you have to remember is to avoid spreading too much rice over your nori so you won’t end up with an unrollable sushi.  To make one, place a sheet of nori over your palm and cover it with a thin layer of rice.  Put a slice of raw fish in the middle, roll everything up then dip it in soy sauce mixed with wasabi before stuffing it in your mouth!  After having about ten rolls, two helpings of miso soup, a big piece of fried chicken and some vegetable salad with beans and torn leafy greens, I decided I couldn’t eat another bite anymore so I stopped eating altogether and concentrated on finishing my tea instead.  Right after dinner, the kid was sent to the ofuro while the mother cleared the table and took out the Christmas cake – a log cake filled and frosted with mocha cream and garnished with big chunks of chocolate and little birthday candles.  We turned off the lights and lit the candles just before the boy came back in, all fresh and powdered in his short-sleeved shirt and pajama pants.  Needless to say, the kid was ecstatic, especially when he was given the biggest slice of cake with the biggest chunk of chocolate.  Me, I was filled with deep sadness.  I used to enjoy Christmas, too.  Little things – roasted turkey on the table, a crisp five-peso bill from Santa Claus, a big can of biscuits, a box of chocolates and candies – would get me squealing and jumping around the Christmas tree.  Over the years, though, it would feel like there was always something missing.  Christmas had somehow lost its meaning.

 

By eleven-thirty, I was back in Sanjo.  Without anything to do and starting to feel lonely, I walked around aimlessly, trying to get comfort from seeing so many Japanese walking about, seemingly oblivious of the fact that Christmas was only a few minutes away.  Perhaps they were thinking the same about me but had they looked closely, they would have seen how lonesome I was that night.  Minutes later, I found myself by the train station so I decided to take the next train home.  When I got to my room, I e-mailed Fuyuki, telling him how uneventful my Christmas eve was.  He replied, “Don’t give a shit.  It’s just another cold winter night.”  I smiled.  Comforted, I went straight to bed and fell asleep the moment I closed my eyes.