I Left My Life at a Family Mart

FamilyMart at night, Japan.  Photo by Julien via Pexels.

Today I left my two suitcases — thirty kilograms of my life — at a Family Mart in Osaka. I walked out with only a ten-kilo red hiking backpack. For the next month, that’s all I have.

Those suitcases hold everything from the past two months of living in Europe, but I didn’t want to drag them from city to city in Japan. For about $60 NZD, I sent them ahead to my final stop in Tokyo with Japan’s luggage forwarding service. I watched them disappear behind the counter, and something in me tugged.

I didn’t expect to feel so attached. The fear of losing them even led me to buy an AirTag, something I’d never bothered with before.

***

This morning, my things were sprawled over the hostel hallway; I didn’t want to wake my roommates. People passed, side-eyeing or offering soft smiles as the elevator doors shut. The staff moved through with trolleys of sheets and, fortunately, gave me grace, as I sorted through piles of clothing around the suitcases.

Practicality became the key factor. My favourite leather jacket didn’t make the cut, nor did my pleated wool skirt. I love dressing up, but I didn’t want to resent the weight of vanity. I filled the bag with duller, looser things I wouldn’t mourn if lost. 

My pink jewellery box lay open before me. I stared at the rings on my fingers. The pieces tied to specific memories or people felt more irreplaceable; the sparklier ones went back into the box.

Then came another significant decision: my hard drive. Do I keep it with me — my entire archive of photos — or fully, truly trust the system? Reluctantly, I chose trust.

For half an hour, I debated a single top before realising how afraid I was to give up choice. 

Only bring the things you need, I told myself.

Okay, so in goes my makeup. A third of the bag disappeared.

Huh? Four pairs of pants.

Erm. I need them all though — I do!

In the end, I packed one pair of linen pants, sports leggings, and two pairs of shorts. There’s something unnerving about narrowing life down to essentials.

Only necessities, I said. 

I tucked in a stuffed duck from Daiso — white, with a green hood. I’m thinking of naming him Yuzu.

Hauling the suitcases along the road toward the Family Mart, I felt the strain in my arms as they snagged on the pavement, again and again.

I hope my backpack has everything I need.

I hope the suitcases reach Tokyo safely.

And I hope I learn that letting go is lighter than I think.

My luggage packed and ready to send off, Osaka, Japan, Nov 2025