Come with us!

I handed over a cake and he handed my a styrafoam box of tomatoes. The door opened and in a troop of yukata-clad girls waddled.
"Come with us Aine-teacher!"
The tomatoes were a present from the principal, from his own garden. He told me that he was embarrassed because they were more obsese-cherry tomatoes, or verticallychallenged ordinary tomatoes, who were burning with envy, yet embarrassed to admit it or loyal supporters of Portugal. I hope I eat them, because I hate to waste things that are given with such good intentions.
He`s a nice man. He feels much more like a teacher than the stiff, liver-beaten keigo-stiffled other principals you meet on Primary school visits. There were less than flattering handdrawn barely recognisable portraits beneath his coffee table, screaming "I am the artwork of a five year old". There`s a warmth about him, and he remembers where I`m from. My visits seems appreciated, so when I received the invitation to my Sayonara party, I was touched.

I followed my guides.

Pretty yukatas, Irish flags and expectant smiles abound, I looked around the gym at those who had awaited my arrival. I recognised their faces, some had stretched and matured from their 3 nensei days, some three years previous. Some faces you remember. Why is it that some people have such memorable countances?

We played games and told Aine-sensei facts about her own country, and had a small tea ceremony, but this time there was no shouting at the stupid foreigner and i learned that not all tea ceremony teachers are massive Bee with Itches, and pictures were taken to freeze the time forever.

And I inhaled a needy fix of decency and kindness and goodwill, and cast aside the toxic angst that can invade us in times of stress, reminding myself to pass it on, and also making a mental note to bookmark the conclusion that people are good.