All of the following pictures were taken this weekend at the National Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington D.C. I want to pause for a moment, though, and talk about where I was this time last year before I move on to Cherry Blossom festivities.Last year on the 23rd of March I was boarding a plane at NAF Atsugi to leave Japan. I had two suitcases, a stroller, a back pack, a baby, and another baby on the way. I didn't even know the gender of the baby in my tummy.
The two weeks that followed the earthquake and tsunami in Japan were followed by uncertainty, sheltering-in-place, and "the rumor mill" on our little base. CNN made it sound like the world was ending in Japan and all of my family back home wanted me to leave immediately. I didn't want to leave. My home was in Japan. My husband was there. I didn't know what to do. Rumors were flying about radiation and "the next big quake." No one wanted to be alone, but we were asked by the base commander to "shelter-in-place" with our doors and windows and vents closed. We weren't supposed to go outside unless it was an emergency. Many cities were conducting rolling black outs and we were without power for 8 hrs at a time many days. Sometimes these black outs took place at night while we slept, but often they were in the middle of the day or in the evening while I tried to get Lilia ready for bed by candle light. When we could leave our houses, no one went far. Gas was too precious when no one could foresee the future. I waited and waited for calls and e-mails from Cliff. We watched the devastation live on television. The spouses and I got together for dinners to calm each others' fears and discuss the future and the rumors. Every day we held our breath and waited for the other shoe to drop. I kept my suitcase packed - just in case we were called to leave. Voluntary evacuations were announced... and then postponed. Then they were announced again... and postponed again. When we finally did leave it was very surreal. Most families left with the knowledge that they would most likely be returning to Japan at some point. It might be a month or two, but they WOULD be going back to finish out their tours. Cliff and I discussed our situation at length and finally decided that if I left with the evacuation I would not return to Japan. I was already over 20 weeks pregnant and this pregnancy had been difficult for me. I was still miserably sick and traveling with a toddler internationally is no easy task even when you aren't throwing up. If I left, I would be leaving for good. I think I was in shock or denial. When I locked up our garden apartment for the last time and left for the theater where they briefed the dependents on our departures, I didn't cry. When I watched NAF Atsugi and then Yamato shrink outside the window of our plane I let one single tear slide down my face. This was it, but I couldn't think about that then. I haven't really thought about it much until now. 
I never truly grieved for Japan. I never got closure. There are so many people I never got to say goodbye to. So many things we didn't get to see or do. Friendships that are missed. Food, shopping, mundane activities that are SORELY missed. Guilt about leaving. I had the opportunity to teach English in Japan and I never got to say goodbye to my students in person. Some of them I have been able to keep in touch with and others I have not. I still wonder, do they resent me for leaving? How easy it was for us Americans to just hop on a plane and literally "jet" out of there, but for the Japanese? They weren't going anywhere. Come hell or high water, that is there HOME. A large part of me wishes I could have stayed and helped.
All of these pent up feeling were a large motivation for us visiting D.C. this weekend. I wanted a little closure. I wanted to dress the girls in their matching jinbei and eat delicacies out of bento boxes and reminisce about our wonderful years in Japan. I LOVE the United States, but I MISS Japan and hope to go back some day.
In a lot of ways the day was a perfect analogy of the my abrupt departure, my feelings of loss and guilt, and the irony of trying to plan for anything in life.
Saturday was wet and windy, cloudy and dismal. We were under dressed for the change in temperature. It had been in the 80's all last week and this weekend it was in the low 60's and rainy. The wind and rain had blown most of the blossoms away. I was trying not to let myself be disappointed as we drove down Connecticut Avenue toward the Tidal Basin, but I was a little miffed. We got there and it was windy and muddy and we were all hungry. We found parking and bee-lined for the food tents hoping for the bento boxes that had been advertised. We were too late! They closed at 2pm and it was 2:30! ARGH! I wanted to cry. Then a gust of wind blew some more blossoms toward us and I started to cry. Then I looked at Cliff who shrugged and I had to laugh. I wasn't alone! The Japanese tourists had come out in full force on this blustery raining day and NOT ONE OF THEM was frowning or complaining. They laughed as the petals rained down and then reached up to the branches to shake a another shower of petals to the ground! They petals were like pink snow on the ground. Pink snow mixed with rain and muck. This was what it was all about. Life is constantly changing and disappointing and raining. It's still beautiful and funny.
Here is Lilia all bundled up in the stroller. 
We may have missed peak bloom with the unseasonably warm temperatures of the last week, but the blossoms were still beautiful.
We saw a few monuments...
Took a few pictures...
And still saw PLENTY of cherry trees. 
I love this picture of the Washington Monument in the background. 
This one too
And you know what? Every now and then, throughout the day I caught a glimpse of "Japan." If I closed my eyes for moment I was there again. Then I opened them and remembered that WHERE I AM is pretty great too. 
