Written by Li-an Marie Celebria
It all became so lovely, those bluest skies above me as a quiet luck settled upon me while I welcomed my dream to set foot in Japan, to breathe its air and chase its horizons, a vision hidden deep in my core now grasped firmly between my fingers.
And, like the sakura blooming along Japan’s winding streets, I knew it the moment my feet touched its soil: This program would slip away from my fingers far too soon, petals scattering on an inevitable breeze. So, I carefully tucked every moment like flowers pressed into a book, savoring each day and squeezing the most from my fleeting time in Nagasaki.
Those months blurred into mornings of fumbling Japanese under patient teachers, afternoons immersed in the rhythm of tea ceremonies, the scent of flower arrangements, and the flow of calligraphy ink, where Japanese culture unfolded not as a textbook but a living pulse. Evenings brought laughter in each other’s homes, words tumbling out in halting Japanese as friends smiled widely, sharing stories of hidden secrets, family recipes, and cultural heartbeats.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and just like that, little did I know, ten months have vanished in a maelstrom of emotions. Nagasaki’s ancient lanterns and whispering seas have woven into my soul during the international exchange, Isahaya’s quiet tempo and pace recalibrating my own rhythm, but now, as I opened my eyes, and looked far past the church pews filled with family and friends alike, the program’s completion washes over me like a wave from that distant harbor back to the life waiting beyond.
Friends from Japan’s own hearth and far beyond the horizon of my homeland wove into a kind of family during my stay. Our culture’s roots intertwining, sturdy and strong as a Yamataka Jindai Sakura tree, where differences were not balked, but relished like ripe, exotic fruit.
The graduation ceremony unfolded quietly, almost solemnly, yet buzzing with a subtle hum of excitement. It marked my family’s first international trip together, teachers bidding us farewell with warm nods, and friends savoring those final, golden days side by side.
The president’s warm words welcomed us and sent us forth, our friend and fellow classmate delivering the graduation speech, of what it meant learning to truly live in Japan, embracing its rhythms and resiliencies, with grace. One by one, we ascended to the church’s altar amid soft applause and the flash of pride in the eyes of everyone, receiving the fruits of our labors in a moment of profound, bittersweet triumph.
As the ceremony fades, a deep ache lingers, longing to see everyone once again, holding onto the hope of future reunions across oceans. These moments crystallized it for me, shining brightly like the path it had opened for me: this exchange program transcends academics; it’s about friendships that outlast time, learning life’s deepest lessons through the hearts of others.
And, like sakura petals drifting softly from the branch, only to return in vibrant bloom next spring, I hold to the hope it’s not sayonara, a final goodbye, but mata itsuka, a gentle “see you again someday” whispered to everyone dear.
