Few Japanese people would say they look forward to tsuyu, Japan’s rainy season.
Unlike the gentle rain that nourishes nature throughout the year, the air during this rainy season feels heavy. As the humidity rises, my body seems to grow heavier too, and every year I find myself struggling with the change in weather.
Last year was especially difficult. I had surgery just before the rainy season began, and recovering while adjusting to the damp, oppressive days made the healing process feel much slower than I had expected.
Now, a year later, another rainy season has arrived.
My body still feels sluggish, but one thing has changed: I’ve finally learned to make time to pause.
Whenever I become absorbed in work—or anything that captures my attention—I tend to lose all track of time. Before I realize it, I’ve skipped lunch or dinner, only to find myself completely drained by the end of the day.
It’s a little embarrassing to admit as an adult, but taking proper care of myself has never come naturally.
So I decided to start with something small.
I began ordering seasonal sweets from a confectionery I had long admired. Unlike everyday treats that disappear almost as soon as I buy them, these special wagashi feel too precious to rush. They invite me to slow down and savor each bite.
And if there are beautiful wagashi waiting for me, surely they deserve a bowl of well-prepared matcha to accompany them.
Driven by that rather curious sense of duty, I found myself creating a proper tea time each day.
Little by little, that quiet moment became the center of my daily routine. I started planning my work around it, and even my meals naturally fell into a healthier rhythm.
Even now, I still lose to the low pressure and humidity of the rainy season from time to time. As I write this, I’m lying in bed, waiting for my energy to return.
Yet simply thinking about tomorrow’s sweet somehow lifts my spirits.
It’s remarkable how one small moment for tea can brighten even the dampest of days.