Folding Away Forty Years of Time — Moving House 2026/4/23 (Thu)

Kanon
April 23, 2026 20:00

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I used to think that moving house simply meant transporting belongings.
But this time, I realized that moving is actually the act of moving time itself.

Leaving a place where I lived for nearly forty years was not about putting things in boxes.
It was about folding away, one by one, the time I had lived there.

The very first thing I had to take care of was my health.
I asked my primary doctors to write referral letters and to prescribe extra medication,
so that I would not run out after the move.
Each time, I felt the reality that I would no longer be treated here.

The next thing I considered was clothing.
Spring and autumn are short now, so I decided to manage with the same clothes for both seasons.
Three sets of underclothes. Three tops.
For winter, only light and warm items.
Choosing a life that could function with fewer things, rather than the comfort of having many,
required more courage than I expected.

Then there were the procedures:
pension matters, the mutual aid association, the public health office, national health insurance, the moving-out notification.
Every place told me something slightly different, and I gradually lost track of what was correct.
The more I asked, the more confused I became, and simply thinking about it exhausted me.

When I submitted the closure notice for my acupuncture clinic,
I realized, on paper, that my work here had come to an end.
It felt as though I was quietly folding away a part of my life in Shizuoka.

I also made the decision to let go of the large dictionaries and books
that I had kept for decades because I once hoped to become a scholar.
At last, I was able to bring that remnant of myself out into the open and release it.

What was most painful was not the number of tasks,
but being blamed while doing what I knew was necessary and correct.
My husband told me to leave records of what I had done,
yet at the same time he said angrily that he could not work because of me.
I feel resentment too, but soon we will live separately.
I swallow my words, telling myself that I only need to endure a little longer.

This move was not about carrying things.
It was about carrying my life into its next place.
That is why it has been so exhausting.

And yet, at the same time,
I chose this new home and this new way of living by my own will.
That alone remains a certain and steady truth.

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