Image created with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot
The Soft Glow of Natsukashii
The brain has that ability to through us curve balls. This morning as I woke, a sweet little memory popped out of nowhere. We were eleven. Declan and I went to see a film called The Perils of Pauline (1967) in the Plaza Cinema in Govan, Glasgow. We were both quiet boys, reflective types who didn’t say much to each other on the walk home. But the next evening, he asked, “What do you want to do? Shall we go back and see the movie?”
And so, we did, every evening that week.
The truth was, we were both smitten with the actress, though neither of us dared admit it. That kind of confession was too delicate, too exposing, for two young boys navigating the cusp of adolescence.
I remembered it this morning at six, as I read about the Japanese word natsukashii—a word that holds the warmth of cherished memories, the kind that rise unexpectedly, like mist from the fields, softening everything they touch.