I arrived in this country more than a decade ago in July 2006, and I must admit that all I knew about the islands were the stories my beloved Okinawan grandfather had dutifully told me during the warm days we shared together in our magical house (one day I might tell you about it). But what he forgot to tell me was that in this islands there were not only gods hidden in trees, princesses were born in bamboos, but also there were creatures that will interrupt your life so they can go on with their own, he didn’t tell me that these tree’s inhabitants will disrupt your sleep without mercy leaving you angry and frustrated. Yes, you guessed it, my friend, I am talking about my eternal summer nemesis: The cicada.
And after more than a decade listening to the insane singing during the summer, I have started to get worried about them, because I have barely heard them sing this year, I am genuinely concern.
In July, I convinced myself that it was too early for them to start singing, and in August, I was lucky to hear a few times, only a few times, no more than five times, when their incessant pitching singing used to be a daily dose of annoyance. Now, they are quiet. And to be honest, I miss it.
I have been looking for them, and when I travel to other cities of work, I am happy to hear them, I am so glad to know they are still making their mark.