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Somewhere Among

Page 13

by Annie Donwerth-Chikamatsu


  Mom looks at Obaachan,

  says yes.

  They smile.

  Inside

  on clipped cotton

  is the piece of umbilical cord

  that dried and fell

  from Miki’s belly button—

  a souvenir of the cord

  binding mother and baby.

  Little Sister is entering the world.

  Mom is returning

  with softer eyes.

  HOME

  Papa arrives with a small bag of his own

  for only one night with us.

  We settle in.

  Later, cozy with us all together

  in Great-Grandfather’s room,

  he says,

  “I miss home.”

  I stand up, pull the light cord, and tell them to look up.

  kira, kira

  a view of

  fifty sparkling stars.

  We have a good laugh together.

  SLEEPING SISTER

  After school

  I can’t wait to be with Miki.

  I read to her,

  practice the pianika

  and do my homework next to her

  and the heater,

  but she sleeps all the time

  I am with her.

  She looks nothing like me.

  She’s smaller than I ever was

  which means she will probably always be small.

  Not like me at all.

  The first time

  she opens her eyes

  and looks at me

  I see she has eyes

  just like Papa’s

  just like Obaachan’s

  just like mine.

  NO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

  With end-of-the-year obligations

  Papa has no time

  to dig decorations out

  at home.

  We won’t see him until

  Christmas.

  He tells me to ask Obaachan

  to bring out their Christmas tree,

  the one Jiichan bought when Papa was a boy.

  Mom tells her not to bother.

  Obaachan says the tree has been gone for decades.

  No Christmas tree?

  I suggest cutting a branch from the garden.

  And making paper decorations.

  Mom tells me in English, “We can do without.”

  Mom is a little like Obaachan.

  She doesn’t want what she doesn’t want.

  A PACKAGE IN THE MAIL

  Addressed from Nana and Grandpa Bob,

  it’s wrapped in brown paper

  on the outside

  and

  underneath

  in red paper

  with a note

  saying,

  Don’t wait till Christmas!

  Opened wide, it smells

  like America

  like Nana’s laundry room

  where her washer and dryer share a room of their own,

  a room where she keeps boxes for sending us things.

  This box is filled with smaller packages for us all.

  A note on Mom’s (the biggest) says, “A wish fulfilled.”

  The Easy-Bake Oven

  she always wanted,

  but never got until now

  guarantees she’ll get a Western cake.

  For Papa

  a package that feels like socks.

  For Obaachan and Jiichan

  a jar of grape jelly.

  They tried mine once and liked it.

  Obaachan accepted it with a smile.

  For me

  a video in English.

  Pokémon

  (Pocket Monsters

  have an American name.)

  For Miki

  a bear sleeping on a crescent moon.

  For “Baby’s First Christmas” tree.

  A PACKAGE IN THE ENTRY HALL

  Wrapped in department-store paper,

  a narrow box greets me after school.

  Obaachan says it is for us.

  Mom and Miki and me.

  An early present. From her.

  We open it together in the TV room.

  A Pocket Monsters Christmas tree.

  Mom gasps

  busies herself

  with baby things.

  I tell Obaachan thank you.

  I know

  Mom doesn’t like the tree.

  She doesn’t like cartoon Christmas decorations.

  She doesn’t say anything

  until Obaachan leaves the room,

  “She never buys anything and she buys this.”

  I can’t believe Mom’s complaining

  about a Christmas tree

  about a gift.

  TRAIN ANGEL

  I look at my little sister

  sleeping

  my little sister

  listening

  my little sister

  learning.

  I show and tell Mom about the origami doll.

  I tell her

  what Masa did to me

  what I did to Masa

  and what I told Obaachan

  the meaning is.

  I tell her I am trying to put peace in my heart.

  I tell her I think Obaachan is trying too.

  Mom takes the doll

  from my hands,

  places it on the tree,

  and says,

  “You’re right.”

  Later I hear her

  thanking Obaachan for the tree.

  After tasting an Easy-Bake Oven cake,

  Obaachan smiles

  and does not comment.

  These, I believe, are Christmas miracles.

  A CHANGE OF HEART

  Mom tells me we must talk

  to the teacher, Masa’s mother, and Masa

  after the holidays,

  saying the same thing Obaachan said,

  “Even an accident requires an apology.”

  I hit Masa.

  It was no accident.

  I tell Mom I will apologize

  first

  before Christmas.

  A DOLL FOR MASA

  At Papa’s desk,

  I dig through origami paper.

  Stripes, Masa wears stripes.

  Folding

  cutting

  pasting

  I make a faceless boy doll.

  I place him beside the girl doll.

  She smiles up at me.

  Her eyes are tiny dots.

  Her smile, just a line.

  Whoever drew this face knew

  how to make a sweet face

  how to give a sweet smile.

  Eyes not too small,

  not too close together.

  A smile not too big,

  not too curved.

  Dots and lines.

  It’s not easy.

  Wish I had my NASA pen.

  I know the feel of it in my hand.

  I need it

  to draw this face.

  DOLL FACE

  I choose a brush

  one with the finest tip

  from the set

  Papa used to address wedding invitations.

  I dribble water

  poto poto

  from a porcelain water pot

  onto Great-Grandfather’s inkstone.

  su su su su

  back and forth

  round and round

  I rub an ink stick,

  its name

  “The Friend of Brush,”

  on the stone.

  I rub it into the puddle

  with a soft touch.

  Too much force will ruin the ink.

  Stick on stone

  stick and stone

  meet.

  Ink strengthens

  water.

  I lead it to the well,

  the sea of the stone.

  Brush meets ink

  I introduce the paper.

  The boy’s eyes stare up at
me.

  Without the smile I cannot tell the feeling.

  After a thousand smiles

  on practice paper,

  I take a breath

  and draw one line

  on the boy’s face.

  Sweet.

  CHANGING HEARTS

  Drawing a heart isn’t easy either.

  I waste paper

  drawing and cutting

  writing and deciding

  on the message.

  The yellow-green paper heart I make

  is as big as the boy,

  but I can’t decide on a message

  short enough to fit inside.

  The writing becomes too tiny

  too hard to read.

  Masa will have to read it quickly

  before he tosses it

  back at me.

  MAKING PEACE WITH OBAACHAN

  Fifth graders know the kanji

  heiwa,

  peace among nations,

  peace among people.

  We have not studied how to write

  the kanji for peace in the heart, heion.

  I ask Obaachan to teach me.

  Stroke by stroke, I know

  I will have to use

  the one I know

  Masa can read.

  I tell her that one English word

  is used to find

  peace among nations

  peace among people

  peace in the heart.

  Obaachan says Masa will understand my meaning.

  I write the kanji for heiwa.

  “Peace among people”

  fills his heart.

  MAKING PEACE WITH MASA

  I find him at the shoe shelves after school.

  He’s knocking

  the toes of his shoes onto the floor

  ready and set

  to run out the door.

  I jump in front of him and reach out

  with the doll.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  He clenches his hand

  swings his arm

  reaches out

  takes the doll,

  takes one look at it,

  and takes off

  running.

  BEAUTIFUL DAY

  I almost run

  to Obaachan

  to Mom

  to Miki

  to tell them

  there is hope.

  They meet me with good news.

  Jiichan will leave the hospital soon!

  ON THE NEWS

  At a gathering at the Uwajima Fisheries High School

  one hundred and twenty boxes

  of personal items

  recovered from victims,

  students, teachers, crew members of the Ehime Maru

  are given to their families;

  to the principal

  the school flag from the ship

  to the captain

  a bell from the steering room.

  Heartbroken,

  we all pledge to limit

  Jiichan’s TV viewing

  when he comes back.

  DECEMBER 20, 2001

  LOOKING UP

  After school

  we all run out

  lift our faces

  to snowflakes

  anticipating

  weekend fun.

  Snowflakes drift

  by the window, while

  Mom dries my hair.

  Obaachan fusses

  as she leaves, saying

  Jiichan’s return

  will be difficult.

  For the first time in my life

  I am glad it stops snowing.

  DECEMBER 21, 2001

  JIICHAN’S HOMECOMING

  He and Obaachan arrive by taxi.

  He is

  refreshed

  like

  from a long vacation,

  a “soul vacation.”

  His eyes are smiling above the mask

  he wears for Miki

  “just in case.”

  Obaachan bought yuzu

  to float in the bath

  to warm the body

  to calm the mind

  and kabocha

  to eat at dinner.

  Funny to think

  citrus fruit is bobbing in bathtubs

  and Japanese pumpkin is boiling in pots

  all over Japan

  on this night of the winter solstice.

  DECEMBER 21, 2001

  DEFENSE OF JIICHAN

  Mom told me

  Papa told her

  doctors told Obaachan

  to create a less stressful home

  for Jiichan’s heart.

  We let him watch a comedy

  while waiting for the bath to fill.

  He is first in line,

  sniffs the yuzu,

  “Nice, eh?”

  and heads for the bath

  to soak with them.

  We have timed his bath at the news.

  Planes and boats chase

  a North Korean boat

  and exchange gunfire

  off the shore of Japan.

  Obaachan switches off the TV

  before Jiichan comes out.

  Shriveled pink

  like a plum

  he falls asleep at the table

  and snores.

  Nobody disturbs him.

  DECEMBER 21, 2001

  UNDER WINTER TREES

  The sunniest time of year in the garden

  Jiichan, in his quilted house jacket,

  sits and enjoys

  mejiro,

  the green-feathered

  acrobat of the treetops.

  He’s not supposed to climb

  to water the bonsai,

  but he wants to

  so I let him.

  The pail is not so heavy;

  not much water is needed now.

  I am the lookout for Obaachan, but

  I think he can get away with it—

  nobody wants to bring him down.

  He can do anything he wants.

  Except smoke.

  And watch the news.

  HOLIDAY PREPARATION

  Teacher explains

  our holiday assignments,

  hands us

  worksheets of math,

  schedules of reading assignments,

  and a tight white paper roll

  of five sheets

  to practice our kakizome

  at home.

  Then, with her back to us,

  she leads us

  stroke by stroke

  we trace the air

  together

  before our brushes

  touch paper.

  Stones ready

  with bottled ink

  we brush

  a message

  to practice

  for our first calligraphy writing of the new year.

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE EMPEROR

  Two days off for Papa and me:

  Sunday

  and Christmas Eve!

  We decided no presents from each other

  this year. But I have secret plans for later.

  Jiichan and Obaachan enjoy toast and their grape jelly

  from Grandpa Bob and Nana.

  Mom bakes another Easy Bake cake

  (and does not have to share).

  Papa relaxes in his cozy socks.

  (With him) I watch Miki

  not Pokémon.

  Grandpa Bob and Nana call to say

  NASA will track Santa!

  Merry Christmas to all!

  SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS

  Santa found me

  at Obaachan’s!

  A present sits and will wait

  for me under the Pocket Monster tree.

  Papa leaves for work before

  I get up

  for just another school day,

  the last one until January eighth

  except today we sing “Silent Night”
r />   and “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer”

  and

  Teacher hands out report cards.

  Some students look;

  others slide them into their book bags.

  Teacher hands me an official paper

  (not my official card)

  with grades,

  all okay but not great.

  All my flower heads full and plucked

  translated into lower numbers

  than my usual high grades.

  I am not going to let that ruin my Christmas.

  PRESENT RETURNED

  Saying no to invitations

  to play on the playground,

  I start alone

  slower than I want to.

  Loaded down

  with art projects and school bags,

  I am followed

  by the sun

  peeping through the clouds.

  I see something

  twinkling

  like a fallen star.

  My NASA pen!

  Stuck in the dirt next to the sidewalk

  so I would find it

  my blue-sky wish

  still inside.

  Best Christmas ever!

  OPENING

  Santa brought me a music player

  with headphones.

  Papa will help me

  pick out some music

  when he comes for the New Year’s holiday.

  We said no presents but

  Obaachan bought a small Christmas cake

  yellow sponge

  whipped-cream frosting

  strawberries between

  knob flowers

  with optional birthday candles

  not Mom’s favorite

  but she’s not complaining.

  I gave the Sun painting to

  Mom and Papa (when he comes).

  I bought Obaachan a bottle of vinegar.

  I have heard her say, “Useful presents are best.”

  I gave Jiichan the purple heart.

  I plan to give Miki

  her first look at the night sky.

  PRESENT RECEIVED

  Grandpa Bob and Nana

  called to say thank you to everyone

  for the handkerchiefs.

  Brought back memories for them;

  they used to carry handkerchiefs in the old days.

  “Supermoon on the twenty-eighth,” Grandpa Bob tells me.

  I have to wait

  to give Miki her present.

  But I hope her first moon will be SUPER.

  ENDING AND BEGINNING

  Christmas is put away

 

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