More Than a Morning Routine—She Remembered My Order
When people talk about life in Japan, one common theme—especially from foreign residents—is how distant Japanese people can seem. There's a sense that many are just going through the motions, following the expected plot lines of daily life: work, commute, home, repeat. That’s how I used to feel too.
Back when I was a full-time worker, buried in crushing hours and endless routine, I barely had time for myself. Mornings were a blur. I skipped breakfast at home almost every day, always rushing to catch the train. Eventually, I started grabbing something quick at a small bakery inside the station—just enough to keep me going.
There was a woman who worked there, and over time, she became a small but comforting constant in my mornings. I always ordered the same thing; a salt-buttery bread, and a hot milk tea with maple syrup and eventually, she began to recite it the moment I stepped through the door. I’d always greet her with a smile, a small talk, or a bit of chit-chat (keeping in mind the big line of salaryman rushing to get a breakfast to catch their train). It wasn’t anything dramatic—just kindness shared in the short window of a busy 7:00 am morning.
But slowly, those small exchanges grew into something more human, more warm. We started recognizing each other not just as worker and customer, but as two people who shared a small piece of life together every morning.
When I decided to move back up toward Tokyo, I told her I’d be leaving at the end of the following week. That next week, whenever I came in, she gave me this mix of a sad and smiley face. Then, on the very last day, as I was about to leave the bakery for the last time, she handed me a small letter in Japanese. Inside it was a short note. Simple, but moving:
“VIE DE FRANCE Cafe溝の口店をご利用いただき、ありがとうございました！！
いつも可愛い笑顔に癒されていましたも新しい場所でも、お仕事前にゆっくりできるステキなお店がありますように安いってらっしゃいませ！！”
“Thank you for coming to VIE DE FRANCE Cafe Mizonokuchi! Your lovely smile always brought me comfort.
I hope you’ll find a lovely cafe at your new place where you can relax before work.
Take care and come visit us again sometime!"
Keep in mind that a woman that knows little about me; my name and barely a few things from my personal life, wrote me this letter.
I still have her letter safely tucked in between the glass of my dresser in my room.
It made me realize something that often gets buried under the stereotypes and surface impressions of life in Japan: many people want to connect—they're just waiting for a safe space to do so. They’re used to their roles, to social boundaries, to keeping things efficient and polite. But behind that, there’s so much quiet emotion, ready to emerge when the right moment comes along.
I’ve always wanted to go back there, just to say hi. Just to say thank you.
Because sometimes, the most meaningful human connections come not from big gestures, but from small, repeated acts of kindness—and the courage to look someone in the eyes and simply say, “Good morning.”
Cheers🌻
