Sacrificing cheese for a meltdown

This is what happened during my first break from volunteering as I traveled down to Tokyo.  This little meltdown is what I've been waiting for since my return.  This is what eludes me.  I would gladly sacrifice cheese to have another one of these moments.

***

I took the overnight bus to Tokyo.  This is the first day of my official “time off” which is code for “mental health break” or “get-out-of-town-and-clear-your-head-before-you-have-a-major-meltdown.”  I’ll take it.  I need it.  I really need it.

The curtains were pulled tight in the bus so I didn’t realize it was morning until the PA system announced we were in Tokyo.  Sleepy people started pulling back the shades and immediately squinted at the first-bright-light-in-the-morning sensation.  Everyone blinked and tried to avoid staring at the daylight and tall buildings outside.  Everyone except me.  Bring me that light.  Bring me these tall buildings.  This is what I came here for.

I get off the bus at Tokyo Station and walk over to the taxi stand.  I’m spending a few days with a friend who is graciously putting me up in his apartment.  He promised me a key so I can come and go as I please.  I couldn’t be happier.

I find a taxi and hop in, give the address and sit back.  I haven’t been this relaxed in a month.  I look outside watching the people and buildings go by.  Then they come.  The tears I’ve been pushing back start to flow.  I quickly wipe them away and do my “control, control” speech in my head.  There’s to be no crying here.  Not in a taxi.  Not yet. 

We drive through familiar streets.  I know exactly where I am.  I get to the apartment and ring my friend through the intercom.

“Come on up!” I hear and I stand in front of the elevator and look at my reflection.  I look terrible.  The tears come again.  This time I don’t stop them.  I can’t.  It’s like my eyes are peeing.  By the time I get to the 27^th floor I’m openly bawling.  I’m embarrassed of course but also don’t care.  This is the first “safe” person I’ve seen since going to Iwate.  In front of him I can cry.  It’s okay.

I get off the elevator and see him walking towards me.  I don’t bother holding back my sobs and let it all out as he gives me a big hug.

“Shhhh.  You’re alright.”  I don’t say anything.  I can’t.

“Inside,” he says.  “I have cheese.”  At this I laugh because this is the one thing I asked him to get me.  God, how I’ve missed cheese.  He walks me inside, takes my bags to my room as I sit on the sofa and look for a box of Kleenex. 

“In here,” he calls from somewhere in his giant apartment and I walk towards where I think he is.

“Take your pick,” he says and I see an array of cheeses spread out on the counter.  I don’t even bother to see what kinds he bought for me.  I dive in.  I am so grateful for safe people who let me cry and buy me cheese.