My daughter, Aya, left home in late March 2026, just as planned. She is about to
begin a new chapter in her life as what we jokingly call a “Minato-ku lady”—a
Japanese expression that evokes the image of a sophisticated, elegant woman
living in one of Tokyo’s most prestigious areas. Needless to say, Minato-ku is
an extraordinarily difficult place to live because of its incredibly high
housing costs. She is fortunate enough to have been provided with a company
dormitory in the area by the hospital where she will begin working as a
nurse.
I had often wondered how I would feel when the day finally came for my daughter
to leave home. Surprisingly, once she moved to Tokyo, my own feelings did not
change as dramatically as I had imagined. It was Aya whose world seemed to shift
the most, especially after her mom returned home following a one-night stay at
her dormitory.
After finding herself alone for the first time, she began to cry and could not
help calling her mom. My wife kept talking with her in the morning, during the
day, and again at night. Meanwhile, I continued sending her countless photos of
our beloved dog, Shu-shu. Little by little, she has been getting used to her new
surroundings and adjusting to life without her mother, Shu-shu,
and—hopefully—without missing me and her brother, Kosuke too much.
The next day, my wife handed me a letter from Aya. I was excited, secretly
hoping that it might contain a few words of appreciation for the support I had
given her over the past 22 years. To my amusement, however, the letter actually
listed ten “rules” for us to follow—such as not drinking more than two cans of
beer and taking Mom to a nice restaurant once in a while. Her message made me
laugh out loud.
Anyway, Aya, enjoy this new journey as you walk on your own feet. We will always
be here to support you whenever you need us.
See you.
