39-Hope, Measured in Objects
After that, the things in the room began to multiply.
A cutting board here.
A set of bowls there.
Towels, trays, utensils.
A simple shelf to store soy sauce, vinegar, salt.
Every time I brought in a new item,
the room felt a little fuller—
not just physically, but emotionally.
It was as if each object carried a tiny piece of my hope.
This ladle will one day stir sushi rice for guests.
This plate will one day hold their first hand-rolled temaki.
This chair will one day support someone who has flown across the world to sit here.
I didn’t have a designer interior.
I didn’t have a branding agency or a renovation team.
What I had was time, a rented van, second-hand furniture,
and a very clear picture in my mind of families and couples laughing in this space.
Soon, the room that had once been completely empty
was full enough that I could barely remember what it looked like on day one.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was ready enough.
And sometimes、“ready enough” is exactly where a new life begins.