ABSTRACT
On a trip to Japan in 2007, I called my host family from the airport to tell them that Daniel and I had arrived. My host mother, incredibly excited, repeatedly told me that they were waiting for us (matteiru) and to come straight 'home'. Two hours later, we entered the soba shop from the side entrance, opening up the sliding door to the kitchen with a tadaima ('I'm home'). I waved from the door, ready to go in and give them a hug. Okāsan stood by the yude (a big pot where they put the noodles to steam/cook) smiling excitedly while otosan prepared a box for a delivery (demae). With one foot in the kitchen and the other outside, I stood in a moment of uncertainty: do I go in and hug my host parents (it had, after all, been almost two years), or, do I bid them a quick hello and take Daniel upstairs and wait for the okyakusan (customers) to leave? Okāsan made the decision for me as she said, Emiko wa matteiruyo. Ue ni itte, atode hanasuyo. Minna matteitayo (referring to my host sister, 'Emiko is waiting. Go upstairs and we will speak later. Everyone has been waiting for you'). As we walked up the stairs, I recalled feeling how natural it was to say tadaima and walk straight upstairs, as though I had just returned from a day out.
