This is something that I have began to write weekly for my internship seminar class. It is called an RSDLE, or reflective self-dialogue for learning. I wanted to share this because, I want people to read my writing and tell me if it moves them. I want to learn to write well from my experience. I appreciate all comments and suggestions. Thank you and enjoy~!
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I wait outside his front door for him. I have come to his house for the very first time. We have planned to get together and make some dinner and watch a movie. This will be the very first time he will come to my house.
The thoughts do not race, but rather leisurely jog, through my mind. I look up and admire the candy-colored orange paint of his house. His Indonesian host parents have interesting taste. It is pure San Franciscan flavor but almost resembles Disneyland.
As my mind wanders and grows slightly impatient from waiting, suddenly the door opens and I leap up in surprising, letting out a startled yell. Hand on the door, he also leaps back with a shout, closing the door with a BANG! It takes me a few seconds to recover from shock before I burst out laughing. The tears stream from my eyes and my infrequently used stomach muscles ache and it is a almost a full minute before he finally appears again, glaring with annoyance. He thinks that I have intentionally tired to frighten him but I can do nothing to explain the coincidence of both of us startling each other, as that I can barely pull myself together to contain my laughter and get off his porch.
I am still full of giggles and definitely high spirits as we get into my car and head to my house to make the dinner I have been looking forward to all week. We will be cooking Okonomoyaki, a Japanese pancake with pork and cabbage and I am really looking forward to cooking complicated Japanese cuisine. We arrive at my house and I am excited as he follows me up my front steps. I am so happy he has finally agreed to spend some time with me! How long I have wanted for him to come over! I am a surprised that I am not placing more expectations on this night like I might have one year ago… I give myself a mental pat-on-the-back and remind myself to just stay calm and cool, act natural. Besides, I already know where we stand; he has a girlfriend he loves very much and I really want friends with him. No need to make more out of this. The thoughts pace through my brain as I insert my key into my door and open it with a flourish. As he follows me in, I appreciate how his manner is polite yet un-awkwardly friendly. Such a nice guy...
Before we start cooking, he comes with me to check out my room. He admires the posters of obscure Japanese anime that I have on my wall. To my surprise he knows many of them; I did not know he was such a fan of anime. When he notices some pieces of costumes I have made, I take out my computer and we look at some of my old photos together. He seems to genuinely like my costumes, a sensitive piece of my nerdy-ness which I have long fretted about being accepted by others, especially Japanese friends. We look some of my pictures of his home island of Shikoku, Japan. I am elated to finally hear more information about the places I visited two years ago. I tell him stories of my experience of feeling ultra-foreign in that tiny, xenophobic temple-town, of the old lady at the azuki, sweet red bean, candy shop who wouldn’t stop asking me strange questions about my height. My heart is warmed with this chance share these memories which I have not yet shared with another soul.
It is getting late and we have not even started cooking yet. We head to the kitchen and begin prepping all the ingredients. As I am cutting the cabbage and he helps with slicing other veggies, I admire how he seems to know his way around the kitchen. He does not stand there, helpless, waiting to be told what to do. I recall other dinners that were intentionally attempted to be more intimate and romantic were much more awkward than this moment. A part of my heart is disappointed that he is a platonic friend.
We cook and chat, exchanging stories of our pasts. I learn he has an older sister who is going to be married in July. I am very glad that he finally trusts me enough to open up a little bit to me, and tells me of his personal life. I remember what his friend once told me, of how he is like a barricaded that constantly needs to be politely knocked upon to finally get it to open. As he tells me of his interests, I feel we have a lot more in common than I realized… he shares my taste in music and we enjoy many of the same movies. And unlike many of my other friends, his English really characteristic and well thought out, not plastic, inorganic English expressions. Though there are a few times I have to take a moment to clarify a complicated idiom or expression or correct his English, our conversation flows so smoothly.
After a delicious jointly-prepared dinner, we clear off the table and finally set up my computer for the movie. We are watching an animated Japanese kid movie, Ponyo-on-the-Cliff. I wrap myself in a blanket and settle in. I have had a few beers however, and the lack of any dramatic action or any sense of danger (it is a kid movie) makes me slowly loose attention and nod off. I try to keep myself awake by sitting up but before I know it, I’m already slumped down again. I turn on my side to find a more comfortable position.
My head is only a few inches from his shoulder. I raise my eyes, tracing his silhouetted profile. The changing scenes of the movie illuminate his face in blue then pink, then a warm golden glow. Something stirs in my gut and I have to suppress an overwhelming urge to lean on his shoulder.
“God!” shouts a voice in my brain, “Why should it have to stop here?!”
I look back into myself, and I search my heart, sifting through the conscious and subconscious desires to find my True Heart. And it speaks to me. “Do not say “We are just friends,”” it says. “Friendship is the most powerful bond. Romance can flare and fade, but friendship can withstand all trials of time and hardship. Be thankful for a friend.”
This message emanates for somewhere deep below my throat, in the back, in my core.
I know this to be Truth.
He is a friend and for that I am sincerely grateful.
