On Single-Serving Friendships

Original Posting: August 2011

Over the summer, I had the incomparable pleasure of hosting two students from Okazaki Women's Junior College in Japan. This hosting came as part of my duties for SMU's Cultural Ambassador program. I was a bit nervous going in. It's strange to think that after my fall semester roommate spent the three weeks of winter vacation with me, a weekend stay is still a big deal for my mom. The house needed to be straightened up from top to bottom (I wrangled my way out of most of it because I was simply too busy with ushering Mukogawa students around); we needed to have a solid plan that included meals and activities, and sleeping arrangements needed to be just right. Naturally things got a bit complicated once we found out we would be hosting two students instead of just one, but it was nothing we couldn't handle.

It's always a gamble when you invite someone new to share your space: I went through it with Mami; I went through it with Risa; and now I got to go through it with Naho and Naoko. I have been fortunate in having nothing but good roommate experiences so far; I'm just waiting for it to run out...

While Naho and Naoko were not roommates in the sense that Mami and Risa were, they were nevertheless people who would be spending the next 48 hours sleeping, eating, and generally just hanging out with me. And with these two, it was my job.

Fortunately, we got along quite nicely.

Language barriers can make things difficult, naturally. Neither girl was particularly proficient in speaking English (although Naoko often took the job of translator), and I'm not particularly proficient in Japanese even though I have been a learner for four years. We could bridge some gaps – and they both had their nifty dictionaries that all the foreign students seem to have and I really wish I knew where to look for them in America... (to the internet!) But something I have come to realize in my all-of-one year of experience with this sort of thing is this: True bonding happens with the things you do.

The first night that Mom and I met Naho and Naoko, we talked for hours over strawberry shortcake and green tea about their time so far in America, and about their homes in Japan. We laughed until we cried, and established inside jokes. I brought out "My Neighbor Totoro" to play in Japanese for them when it came time to take turns for showers before bed.

On Saturday, we went to the Bon Odori festival in downtown Olympia; I thought it would be interesting for the girls to see an Americanized take on traditional Japanese festivities, and we even saw other students from the CA program there. We actually got there about two hours before the dancing started, so we passed the time conversing with friends and sampling some Japanese food – hooray for curry! After eating, I showed the girls Capital Lake and the Olympia fountain.

Last year, I had the privilege to dance in the same Bon Odori festival; while I still had my happi (rhymes with poppy) coat, I didn't wear it this year because with my shorts underneath, it looked like I wasn't wearing pants! However, I did have a button-up shirt that my grandmother made with the leftover fabric, so I wore that instead. I did not dance in the festival this year, partly because I didn't quite remember the moves, but mostly because I felt sluggish; I had eaten dinner at home before I ate that curry. However, I did get pictures, and we did all have fun while we were there.

Sunday saw a bit of a disaster... I found out that morning that my ex-boyfriend had met a girl in Austria and was now in a relationship with her. I was crushed and angry and on the brink, and it completely derailed me. My parents got upset with me for sulking when I had a job to do, and none of that helped my attitude for the day. I walked on egg shells the rest of the day and wanted nothing more than to have the weekend over so I could go back to work as a CA. I felt like a terrible hostess and didn't know how to explain to Naho and Naoko what was wrong. They didn't force me to say anything; they sat and were quiet, and waited for me to come out of it. Then they made me laugh.

After I took the girls back, I tread carefully around Mom, who seemed to have decided to let it go for now. Either that night or the next day, she consulted me about giving gifts to the girls during the farewell dinner the following Tuesday; it made me feel better to know she wanted to include me in her plans. Naho and Naoko had given us both gifts the first night. I have gotten gifts from my Japanese roommates, and I got gifts from all the Mukogawa girls; it felt right to finally give something back.

At the farewell dinner, I realized how much I had already come to care for these girls over just that small, short weekend. We revived all the jokes, and remembered all the minutia of their personalities and tastes. We presented them with our gifts and they gave us handmade Thank You cards – which were absolutely perfect. I have them with me in my dorm right now; one way or another they will make it onto my dorm wall.

I didn't realize until I was leaving the dinner with them that it was good-bye. We all started crying without any prompting, and didn't want to stop hugging; didn't want to admit that it was the end of it.

I went through the same again with the Mukogawa group a week later; not realizing until the final moment when they all accompanied me from the bus dropoff to my car, that we were just trying to make it a little longer until we had to walk away, pretending for a few more minutes that it didn't have to be over.

It's hard to make that final farewell. I don't like making farewells; some people say "See you later!" And it's true that I can go to Japan, or they can come to America again. And, as I've said before, there's always Facebook. But I always feel sort of hollow afterward, like something's been ripped out of me and I have to find something to fill it back up again or I'll waste away. And it is true that something has been taken from me when that happens; a presence in my life that satisfied one need or another – or else why would they have come into my life at all? People leave and they take little pieces of you with them, but you also have a piece of them to hold onto for yourself. You only feel hollow until you find a way to fit those new pieces into the spaces of your heart those friendships left behind.

You know they're not a single-serving friend if their pieces fit just right.

♥Sarah