In the fantasy version of my November trip to Tokyo, I stayed by mother’s side day and night. We sipped tea, touched hands, shed a few tears, and had heart-to-heart conversations I’ll remember for eternity.
Most of what I wrote in the second sentence came true in real life. Not the way I imagined, but it happened nevertheless. Which is pretty freaking amazing.
But I must confess, I didn’t stay by my mother’s side day and night. Instead, I went shopping. Almost daily. I judged myself for this, but the pull was too strong not to.
Let me give you an idea of what I encountered on those (guilty) outings.
Tongs with built-in stands.
I love cooking and serving food with tongs. But they’re awkward to set down on the counter and pick back up. Well, someone noticed if you add two little triangles along the edge of the handle, just below the “claw,” the tongs will stand up on their side all neat and tidy. So smart! And this gem of a stainless steel utensil was 100 yen (currently 72.8 cents USD.)
Pen caps.
Writing implement geeks already know that Zebra, Pilot, Pentel, and other Japanese brands make the loveliest fine-tip ballpoint pens with smooth and gorgeously hued ink. At the store, I clicked on a 0.4mm gray-green one not marked as a tester and saw the tip of the pen was sealed for freshness—with a minuscule red silicone ball, just barely wider than the tiny tip itself.
Amenity kits with your take away lunch.
Shopping makes me hungry. When I unwrapped my prepackaged box of sushi, the first thing I found was an amenity kit: an itty-bitty rectangle of a hand wipe plus an individually wrapped toothpick. I sighed with relief.
If little things so thoughtful, cute, well-designed, and potently “extra” make you glad to be alive, then you’ll find a lot of retail therapy in Tokyo as I do. You don’t have to spend money to reap the rewards, either. You can just walk around, look, and feel better.
And believe me, I felt nourished and more able to face the heavy, deep, and real reason I was in Tokyo every time I came across such a impossibly tiny joy.
So maybe I stop calling them guilty excursions and embrace them for that they were, a gift.
Speaking of which, it’s gift giving season in much of the world. You may be in the thick of it as we speak.
Finding good gifts can be hard. “It’s the thought that counts” gets thrown around in conversation, often defensively. I think that’s because giving with sincerity makes us vulnerable to disappointment, even hurt.
So if that bummer happens to you this holiday season, I’m sorry. And please remember this.
We live in a world where someone somewhere right now is taking the risk to care enough. They’ll make life better for someone they don’t know and will never meet because they created an impossibly tiny, life-affirming joy and offered it to a world that didn’t necessarily ask for it.
Isn’t that so tender and beautiful?
And doesn’t it nudge you to be such a gift-bearer yourself?
