It’s that time of year again. Seeing the neighborhood mikoshi reminded me of my first month here—a year ago now—when I was unexpectedly thrown into the side of a mikoshi lineup, carrying it down streets and into Torigoe-jinja. I didn’t yet feel this was my home, my neighborhood, or my community.
But now, as I walk through my neighborhood, I see familiar faces, pass the same flowers in bloom as last year, and visit the coffee shop I go to every day. Starting my second year, the mikoshi is now a normal feature of my life.
