There Was No Magic at the Airport — Memories Are More Vague Than You Think —

Memory is truly unreliable and vague.

Recently, I have been trying to incorporate elements of "travel" into my daily life.

Then, strangely enough, I realized that
even just taking a slightly longer route,
or just walking into a shop for the first time,
can already become a "journey."

I used to love that atmosphere of the airport.

The high ceilings.
The slightly dry air.
The footsteps of people heading to some country.

I see.

"That's it! Let's go to KIX!"

Like some old catchphrase,
my husband and I decided to go to Kansai International Airport.

Just going to the airport for no reason (lol).

"How many years has it been?"
"I went to Bali when I was 30, so... 21 years ago?"
"The airport must have changed, right?"

I was excited.

But three days before our planned trip, my husband said,

"We've been to KIX before, haven't we?"
"Wait, I have, but you've never been abroad!"

I replied with a laugh,
but gradually, I started to wonder, "Huh?"

I started picking up fragments of memory.

The scene where we argued a bit about
which terminal the parking lot was at.

The view of the train tracks visible below to the right.
Watching airplanes from the observation deck.

"Oh, we did go there as a family."
"We did go to the observation deck, too."

From a wry smile to a burst of laughter.

Just as there are worlds you cannot see unless you try to look,
memories also remain just as we want to see them.

Even painful events,
or difficult experiences,

we either blow them out of proportion,
or conversely, quietly push them to the side.

Perhaps we are just rearranging the past
through our own filters.

Thinking that, I headed to the airport.

Kansai Airport, after such a long time,

was, unexpectedly, just an "airport."

I thought that going there would make me feel like my journey was continuing.

I headed to the international terminal.

The sparkling check-in counters,
the space where Japanese people and foreigners pass each other by,
that floor where there are fewer people speaking Japanese,

Huh?

I wonder what it is.

Why don't I feel excited?

The sense of exhilaration I expected isn't happening.

I thought that if I came to the airport,
something would move.

That the scenery would change,
that my mood would lift a level,

or that I would be able to reaffirm that "I really do love traveling."

"Huh? I thought that if I took action, things would change."

At that moment, I suddenly realize.

I am once again
clinging to a small attachment
that "something is supposed to happen."

If I go to the airport,
my mood is supposed to change.

If I move, something is supposed to change.

The me who is experiencing this.
The me who can turn this into an article.

…What a terrifying way of thinking, I laugh a little.

Truly, my thoughts are busy.

The airport wasn't what created the journey.

It was just "me, about to set off on a journey"
that made the airport shine.

There was no magic in the place itself.

Perhaps—

Reunions, destiny, and timing
might all be the same.

It is not the symbol that shines,
but the version of me at that time that is shining.

Overseas travel was the same.

An experience that felt free, special,
and like a symbol of youth.

But what was shining
wasn't the foreign country, but the energy I had back then.

I wanted to be seen.
I wanted people to think I was amazing.
I wanted to prove my worth.

A journey to acquire things from the outside.

But from now on, it will surely be different.

I don't need it.
But, it's okay if I have it.

Not for the sake of proof,
but for the sake of the experience.

If I go out into the world again as I am now—

It will surely be a completely different journey than before.

#MemoriesAreVague #Assumptions #Realizations #Introspection #Attachment #SelfDialogue #RealizationsInMy50s #Essay #TravelingThroughDailyLife #FromProofToExperience