[Where the Heart Resides] People are a Feast

When I was 18.

I met a company president.
Looking back now, it was quite a mysterious environment.

As a student, I was invited to various places, such as local events, planning meetings, and after-parties.

At the time, I didn't think it was anything special, but thinking about it now, it was not normal at all.

There were business owners at the venue.
There were times when mayors and governors were there, and
sometimes there were even explorers.

I didn't even have a business card,
I was just a student.
So I cut up some thick paper, wrote my name on it, and
wrote a short message on the back to hand out.

Surprisingly, people were happy to receive them.


The president always used to say:

Value people.
Keep the business cards you receive.
Write postcards.
Even if you don't get a reply, send another one.

After events, we would always take a group photo,
and he would distribute them to everyone later.

And in his office,
along with a portrait, these words were displayed:

"People are a feast"

At the time, I didn't think
very deeply about the meaning of those words.

But now I think I understand. What the president cherished was probably not connections, but the encounters with people themselves.

Among those encounters,
there is one person I can never forget.

A person who planned their life in their thirties and lived exactly as they planned. They quit being a teacher in their fifties and lived in a log house.

In the spring, they showed me a field of canola flowers.
In the summer, they let me pick cherries.
In the autumn, they let me gather chestnuts.
In the winter, they let me chop firewood and light the fireplace.

For me, all of these were first-time experiences.

And surprisingly,
all of that happened right in front of their house.

They told me to stay over,
and cooked chestnut rice for me.
As a student, I never once paid for anything.

So I always thought,
someday when I become an adult, I will repay them.

And after I became an adult,
I went to treat them to sushi for the first time.

"I can finally give a little back."

Thinking that,
the three-hour drive each way felt like nothing.

But the teacher was no longer fond of greasy food, and instead of sushi, they nibbled on pickled ginger and
laughed, saying, "When you get old, you know."

I really wanted them to eat more.
I wanted them to be happier.
But that didn't happen.

As they were leaving, the teacher said, "Today was a good day,"
and gave me a letter.

When I got home and opened the envelope,
inside was a 10,000 yen bill along with the letter.

It said, "Eat something delicious."

I cried.
I thought I could finally repay them a little.
The teacher was the one giving until the very end.


Looking back, my life has been one of only receiving.

I have been given many opportunities.
They were by my side when I was struggling.
They raised me as a person.

Every time I think I will repay them,
I am given something even greater in return.
And they gave me these words:

"While you are young, absorb many things. And pass on the kindness you have received to the next generation. Don't worry about us."



My life is made of people.

Not titles,
but people who showed me how to live.

What I thought I wanted to repay
might not have been something to repay from the start.

So I want to be someone who can pass on what I received from those people to someone else.

I think that is my way of repaying them.

* * *

Sequel ⬇︎

#WhereTheHeartResides