I was recently a passenger in the back seat of a car on a drive along a scenic country road. There was a lot to see, and at one point I realized I was swiveling my head around, trying to catch the view from every window for fear that I might miss something. So I settled down and just looked out the window next to me, watching rice fields and mountains and villages pass by. I knew I was definitely missing things, but I was seeing so much more.
-
The Aftermath
Today I was in the city of Takamatsu for the funeral of my wife’s aunt, who died at ninety-five after a full and (mostly) joyous life. We joined my wife’s cousins and their children at the funeral home for the ceremonies, which included chanting long Buddhist sutras, led by two priests in colorful robes, followed by a deluxe bento box meal in an adjoining dining room (sans priests). It didn’t seem appropriate to take photos during the ceremonies or meal, but I did sneak one of the aftermath: empty bento boxes, soup bowls, and beer bottles on a service cart beneath the funeral home’s prayer bead station (in case we forgot ours, like the amenity toothbrushes at our hotel). All good things come to an end, as they say. A meal. A stay at a hotel with amenities. A life. Gochisosamadeshita. Sayounara. Amen.
***