The Best Place to Be

I'm driving through the backroads of Miyagi Prefecture, somewhere on Route 108 between Osaki and Wakuya. The windows are all rolled down and Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson is comin' in through the speakers. Eri points out a bus stop she used to use when she was in high school and is probably in a state of nostalgia she wasn't revealing.

The boys are in the back; talking, asking "Papa, what's that?" every 40 seconds, laughing, making flatulence noises both real and fake, and occasionally letting off a random yell of joy.

Then Kenzo asks Eri, in Japanese, a question. "When I grow up will I be able to still see you every day?"

He's getting more and more observant by the week. He's listening to everything we talk about and processing. I make it a point to speak with Eri in English within earshot of the boys and use language they will understand, or at least hear and construct meaning. Once in a while I'll either speak in Japanese or say things that are not at all comprehensible to the boys or something I don't want them hearing and repeating, like a salty observation of a neighbor. I try to keep that to a minimum.

Obviously Kenzo is putting the puzzle pieces together. He's noticing that he's a little boy and divides his time between kindergarten and us, and that mama and papa have mamas and papas but we don't see them every day. And he's a pretty sensitive boy who, as far as I've observed up to this point, overthinks and internalizes and comes to crazy conclusions with minimal evidence on the regular. We can't seem to figure out where he gets that from.

Eri's friend from her student exchange teenage days is back in Miyagi and married a super nice German dude and is pregnant with their second child, so we made a play date and packed up some Costco lasagna and headed out for a visit.

Their little boy is one year and five months old and loves all the same things Kenzo and Osamu love: trucks, buses, the park, the swings, and most of all mischief. He also shares the same zo kanji as Kenzo...

Eri's friend asked me a question today that I haven't been asked in a while. How did you decide the names of your kids? The short answer for Kenzo is I just liked the zo-ending Japanese names. My first choice was Takezo but Eri wasn't into it. Too much cultural connotation. Osamu was going to be Minoru, but that's a story for another day.

We ended up doing a pretty long drive through the Miyagi countryside. I don't like using the car navigation thing if it's not absolutely necessary. I know I'm stupidly stubborn about it, but I don't care if it takes longer to get home if we discover new roads and see new things. I was pretty exhausted when we got back though, and possibly a bit surly. The roads I chose took us close to Matsushima, which is traffic jam central on the end of a gorgeous three-day weekend.

We stopped off at a convenience store in the middle of basically nowhere, which is generally the best place to be, and the boys and mama loitered outside with the best afternoon long car ride break snacks of all time.