Sometimes a miracle happens. Sometimes, where there was one, there is now two – meeting my wife was just like that. Suddenly, in the amount of time it takes to bow and think that I need to escape, suddenly, in the seconds it takes to feel that if I give in to my fear now I will always wonder – life can suddenly change miraculously and never again be the same. From despair to having a future. From loneliness to having a life. A wife. A meaning for my existence – cooking for my wife, cleaning for my wife, washing for my wife. Loving my wife.
This blog is stories about my life, a life in which sometimes a miracle happens. Sometimes, where there were two, there is now three. And when such a miracle happens, it is sometimes easy to cry. Sometimes it is impossible not to; all judgement gone and gratitude all that is left. Why me, do I deserve this, am I worthy of you – those questions disappear and are replaced by a warm glowing light deep inside. And an urge to remember and document those miracles, as well as all those other times where the sometimes difficult to notice beauty of existence lies in the everyday life of being a shufu in Tokyo.
When I saw your little heart beat for the first time on my wife smartphone, there inside my miracle wife’s onaka, it was like you also physically became a part of me. Like I also am carrying you inside my body. And of course I do, I carry both of you. Always, all the time. But then, sometimes, a miracle happens and where there was happiness before there is now pure joy; I suddenly have one more to cook for. And to love.
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