I looked up at the sky
and everything fell quiet.

A soft breath.
A stillness I had long forgotten.

That moment—
so small, so full—
became the beginning of Yohaku Biyori.

I had spent years
gathering pieces of the world.
Ideas. People. Stories.

Building, shaping,
reaching toward something not yet named.

Those days gave me a quiet compass,
and a way of seeing that bends,
but does not break.

Still, I filled the hours—
and then some.

Work.
Home.
Care.

All of it held close,
until it held me too tightly.

I kept moving,
kept giving,
kept forgetting how to stop.

And then—
a sky,
a breath,
a letting go.

Maybe I don’t have to carry it all.

So I began again.
More slowly.
More softly.

Now I live in Tokyo,
with my husband,
our two children,
and a dog who reminds me to pause.

I am learning—
not how to do more,
but how to be.

And if this little corner
brings even one soft breeze
to your day,

then perhaps,
we are already
a little closer than we thought.

Reiko