The FamilyMart

I lived next to a FamilyMart for the first three months I was in Japan, right there in Ikejiri Ohashi. Close enough that I could walk over in the middle of the night in whatever I was wearing and no one would care. The employees knew me pretty quickly—they’d greet you every time, that cheerful automatic greeting, and I’d just nod and disappear into the aisles.

Konbini—that’s what they call them, short for convenience store—are everywhere in Japan. Open 24 hours, stacked with magazines and pre-made food and drinks and whatever else you might need at 3 AM. That FamilyMart had onigiri in every flavor, sushi in plastic boxes, sandwiches, bentos, all cheaper than cooking at home and way faster. I spent too much money on manga magazines while I was there.

The thing about living that close to one is you stop thinking of it as a store. It becomes a solution. You’re hungry at 3 AM, or you forgot breakfast, or you’re hungover—you just walk over and the doors open and someone greets you and you find what you need. It’s like having a safety net made of rice balls.

I’m not sure what I’d have done without it those months in Tokyo. Knowing that place was ten steps away—that the lights never went off, that someone would be there, that they’d have whatever I was craving at 2 AM—that mattered more than I realized at the time.