The Writing’s On the Wall

I think that more often than not we never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.

Before I even had a chance to stretch into the day I fell prey to yet another morning ambush. The window was open, letting in that crisp new spring air, and before I knew it two little boys in pajamas came flying at me, shouting, “TACKLE TIME!” If I ever needed a reminder that time marches forward, that nothing stays still, well there it was. I held my ground for a few rounds, actually just curling up into a fetal position, before declaring myself a survivor and getting up to take on some spring tasks.

First order of business: tire changing. My biannual ritual. Swapping out the winter tires for the regular ones. It's a task I’ve gotten pretty handy at over the years. This time, I clocked myself: 26 minutes for all four tires. Not bad considering I’m using that flimsy jack that came with the car. Those things weren’t made for this job. But then again, neither am I. By next winter’s swap, I’m getting myself a power jack and a torque wrench. I always get so sore afterward. 

Osamu joined me for the car and motorcycle wash, scrubbing like his life depended on it. I promised him 50 yen for his efforts but doubled it in the end. He really earned it. The only condition was keeping it a secret from Kenzo, who was inside nursing an allergy cough and enjoying some much-needed alone time. He loves his quiet time. The other day, he even let himself into the house before the rest of us got home, and he absolutely loved it.

Next up: weed killer. The springtime invaders have started sprouting, especially behind the house. Then, my newest personal crusade... litter patrol. I’ve become a neighborhood Roomba, wandering about with a trash bag and tongs, picking up cigarette butts, cans, and all sorts of stray junk. Nothing makes steam come out of my ears quite like litter, especially in my beautiful little neighborhood. I’m fully leaning into this new habit. It gives my walks a sense of purpose like never before. My way of pushing back against the chaos.

As the day wound down, we capped it off with a special edition movie night. Last month, the boys fell in love with Night at the Museum, so tonight we watched the sequel. Two bags of microwave popcorn, and they just barely made it to the end. They kept insisting, “I’m not sleepy,” while their eyes drooped. Their favorite character is the Moai who calls everyone Dum Dum. I get it. There’s something inherently hilarious about a giant stone head demanding gum. I laughed out loud too. My favorite in the sequel though was Bill Hader as General Custer. Oh and we all laughed hysterically at the scene where Ben Stiller argues with a Smithsonian security guard played by Jonah Hill. 

The other day, while strolling about loitering in the 100-yen shop, I stumbled across a Moai-themed fish tank decoration. Of course I bought it. And just like that, Kenzo and Osamu’s fish-watching fascination was reignited. I didn’t tell Eri because I wanted her to discover it herself, and oh boy she did, letting out a funny little gasp. She was like, "Why would you waste 100 yen on something like that?" But then she saw how that simple stone head had brought back a sense of wonder for the boys.

The writing’s on the wall. Those words keep popping into my head. I don't actually understand what they mean. But I think maybe it's about the dirt on my car (especially since the boys have discovered the joy of scribbling faces and dumdum on the dusty windows with their fingers). It’s in Kenzo and Osamu's laughter, in the slow but steady improvements, like a 26-minute change of four tires with a stone-age jack. Soon enough, it’ll all be gone. So I welcome... no, treasure, the tackles, the tire changes, the Roomba walks, the movie nights. Every single bit of it.