We are flying what seems like dangerously low over Boston Harbor. From my window seat, I see waves crash into rocks, spraying foam, and colorful boats with flapping sails. After touching down safely in the city, the pilot wishes us all a happy Thanksgiving.
Unlike Narita, Logan Airport does not have Christmas decorations up yet. Instead, in a small display case, there are children's hand-traced Thanksgiving turkeys, decorated with glitter and macaroni. How, I wonder to myself, would the drawings look if done by Japanese kindergartners? Might the birds have big eyes and spiky hair?
My younger sister Jackie, a schoolteacher in the area, waits for me in her car. I toss my backpack in and we hug stretched over the armrest. I notice her T-shirt doesn't have any ungrammatical English and her curls are a little blonder than last year.