On that day in mid-January, three days before the seventh anniversary of her husband's death, Baba Wako was in a bad mood from the morning. She woke up at 5 a.m. as usual. She is an elderly woman living alone, not working, and leading a carefree life, but out of long-standing habit, her eyes naturally open without an alarm clock. As soon as she sat up in bed, a faint pain ran through her body. It wasn't a sharp pain. Her right side ached. "Oh, it's raining," she muttered, going into the bathroom and opening the window curtains. As expected, it was raining outside. Perhaps because it was still early, a milky white mixture of mist and rain was covering the house. A quiet drizzle was tapping on the window.
"It's like my body is a hygrometer," she muttered to herself again. The faint pain was an aftereffect of a traffic accident seven years ago. She had hit her head and waist hard against the passenger side door, cracking the bones in her shoulder and waist and breaking three ribs on her right side. Normally she doesn't feel any problems, but on rainy days her body aches, as if reminding her of the accident. It's a ache that slowly rises from deep inside. According to the orthopedic surgeon, "It will go away someday, but it will take a long time," so Wako-chan thinks, "By the time it heals, I'll be dead first."
She doesn't have fond memories of rain. There was a reason why she especially didn't welcome the rain on this day. That was because she had a tea ceremony scheduled to take place at noon that day in the tea house of a Zen temple in Little Tokyo. This was also something that her tea friends had planned especially for her. It was a tea ceremony to celebrate her 77th birthday, and she was to be the guest of honor (the main guest of the tea ceremony). Her birthday is February 1st, but due to the venue's circumstances, the gathering was planned to take place a little earlier.
"The weather forecast on TV said it would be cloudy, but it didn't say it would rain. I thought weather forecasts had gotten a lot more accurate recently, but they still turn out to be wrong. If it's going to rain, I'll have to prepare an umbrella, sandals for the rain, and a raincoat. I haven't worn my raincoat in years, so I'll have to get it out of the way when it's folded up. Oh dear," she muttered. In the bathroom mirror, she could see her head, which had turned completely white over the past seven years, and her face, which had become more wrinkled. The only thing that hadn't changed was her slightly chubby build, with a medium build.
It was on January 20, 2011 that a traffic accident occurred that took the life of her husband and left Kazuko with more emotional aftereffects than physical ones. Incredibly, that day was her husband Junichi's 77th birthday, the same age as Kazuko is now. To celebrate his 77th birthday, their son Tetsuro and his wife, who live in Redondo Beach, and their daughter Miwa, who lives in Silicon Valley, held a small celebration for them at Senbazuru Restaurant in a hotel in Little Tokyo. It was a relaxed dinner for just the family. There were seven of us, including Tetsuro and his wife's daughter Aki (9 years old at the time) and their son Ken (6 years old at the time), and we all had a lively and fun time with constant laughter. Tetsuro's wife's name was Kay. She was a third-generation Japanese, but she had studied abroad in Japan and spoke good Japanese. Her two grandchildren were innocent and cheerful, and I used to babysit them when they were young, so they were endlessly adorable.
After a fulfilling and fun time, Junichi and Wako got on the Harbor Freeway and headed for their home in Gardena. It was raining lightly when they left the hotel, but the rain gradually got stronger. However, the two of them in the car felt extremely happy. They were ruminating on the blissful time again. Aki and Ken gave them a portrait of Grandpa that they had painted, and Tetsuro and his wife gave them a warm jacket. Miwa surprised Junichi and Wako with a gift. It was a fine shakuhachi that Junichi had wanted for many years. One of Junichi's few hobbies was the shakuhachi. It was quite expensive. He said, "I'll give it to Grandpa too," and gave Wako a new shamisen. Miwa got a job at Google (Junichi Grandpa called it Guru Guru until the end) and was earning a fairly high salary. Miwa was a little proud and said, "The company's stock price went up, so I sold some of my employee stock. So don't worry."
"Junichi, we are so lucky to have such wonderful sons and daughters, and such wonderful wives and grandchildren. We've been living in America for 35 years now, and it was all worth it. Let's continue to enjoy our retirement together," Wako said, and Junichi nodded with a smile and said, "That's right, Wako, let's be grateful." Those were the last words Wako heard from Junichi.
We got off the freeway at Redondo Beach Boulevard and headed west. The rain got heavier, and the wipers were swinging back and forth frantically. We were driving through the intersection at Normandy Boulevard. Despite the red light, a red car suddenly came flying in from the left. The violent impact blew the car Junichi was driving away. Kazuko's memory ends there. She lost consciousness. Two days later, she woke up in a hospital bed, with Tetsuro's pale face right above hers. Kei and Miwa were around her, looking worried. Anxiety crossed her mind. "Where's Grandpa?" she asked, and Tetsuro quietly shook his head from side to side.
Wako cursed the absurdity of this world. She could not understand how her blissful time could suddenly turn into hell. She doubted the existence of gods and Buddhas. Two months after her husband's death, Wako realized the absurdity of the world even more. It was the news of the tsunami caused by the Great East Japan Earthquake. On TV, an old man was shown in a daze, having lost his wife, son, daughter, and grandchild to the tsunami. That night, Wako cried in bed. The shock and sadness of the many victims and bereaved families, including the old man, overlapped in Wako's heart. The image of the old man who had lost not only his wife but his entire family has never left Wako's heart since then. Wako, with Kay driving, attends the Great East Japan Earthquake Memorial Ceremony held at the LAPD near Little Tokyo every year in early March and continues to offer flowers in memory of the deceased.
Looking back, I feel like I was in the dark for the first two years. Tetsuro and Kei also say, "At that time, Grandma was like a patient with depression." After that, with a kind of resignation and the consideration and kindness of her children and grandchildren, she was able to live a normal life little by little. Now, she lives alone in the house in Gardena, where memories of her husband remain, and spends her days monotonously. However, she no longer has the energy to spend every day cheerfully and energetically with her former husband from early in the morning. It has become a distant memory. Her heart has become negative. Even after turning 77, she thought that her days would continue like a game of consumption, and that she would die someday. However, she never imagined that on this day, she would be given a new goal by learning new handwriting, which had given her a reason to live.
As I was taking out the kimono I was going to wear to the tea ceremony from the dresser, I noticed the kimono I had worn to my wedding, which was in the same drawer. For a moment, old memories came back to me. I first met Junichi in February 1957, when Nara was filled with the scent of plum blossoms. Kazuko Teranaka was only 16 years old. The temple where Kazuko's father was the chief priest decided to renovate the temple, which had been standing for hundreds of years, and Junichi Nishimura, a temple carpenter, participated in the construction. Junichi was 23 years old at the time, and began training as a temple carpenter immediately after graduating from junior high school in Kagoshima. The temple renovation work lasted for a year and a half. During that time, Kazuko and Junichi would occasionally exchange words, but nothing more. However, Kazuko's father had a lot of praise for Junichi. "He's just as skilled as his seniors, but his work is wonderful. He pays close attention to the invisible parts and does a good job. He's quiet, but he's earnest and very honest. I'm sure he'll grow." Kazuko just listened to him and said, "Hmm," but she never imagined that she would end up getting married about 10 years later.
Kazuko was rather lively and cheerful. She didn't like the atmosphere of temples. She also felt that the city of Nara where she was born and raised was a bit old-fashioned, so she was determined to move out when she grew up. Her experiences as a child may have also influenced this. From elementary school to junior high school, she was cheered on with "Yay, yay, the daughter of a temple!" Even her last name was "Teranaka." She was the target of teasing from the bullies. Because of this background, Kazuko's heart was not moved by Junichi, who was a temple carpenter. There was also an age difference of seven years between the two of them.
However, Junichi seemed to be different. He seemed to be attracted to Wako's lively expressions and attitude. One Sunday, towards the end of the year and a half of renovation work, Junichi asked Wako, "Wako, do you want to go see a movie with me?" Wako was a little surprised, but it was almost time to say goodbye and she wanted to see another movie, so she accepted the invitation. After the movie, they chatted for a bit over coffee at a nearby cafe, but Junichi seemed a little nervous and strange. It was a more enjoyable half day than they had expected. And then the two parted ways.
After that, Junichi traveled to construction sites all over Japan, and Wako finally escaped Nara and spent four years of college in Kyoto. The two met again in February 1966. Junichi suddenly came to visit Wako, who was working in the tourism department of Nara City Hall, for the first time in five years. "I can't forget you, Wako. I want to marry you if possible." Wako had dated some seemingly cool, urbane seniors and classmates in her student days, but she grew tired of their frivolousness and frivolity and broke up with them. Compared to those two, Junichi was not very good-looking, small, and not smart at all, but his sincerity, kindness, and strong love touched Wako's heart. On the night of the fire festival at Nigatsudo Hall in Nara, Wako accepted Junichi's proposal of marriage. It was more than half a century ago. Tetsuro and Miwa were born in 1976, and Wako's life in the United States began. That same year, Higashi Honganji Temple was built in Little Tokyo, and Junichi helped out as one of the carpenters, which marked the beginning of the family's life in the United States.
While I was reminiscing about old times, the phone rang. It was Kay. "Grandma, unfortunately it's raining and the roads will be congested, so I'll come to pick you up 30 minutes early, at 10:30 instead of 11," she said. Kay had agreed to be the driver from Kazuko's house in Gardena to the Zenshuji temple in Little Tokyo. Tetsuro, who worked at Toyota's US headquarters, was on a business trip to Japan.
However, in the end, Kei did not show up to pick her up that day. Instead, her granddaughter Aki came. She was 16 years old. She took her to Zenshu-ji Temple by Uber. This was because an unexpected accident occurred when a water pipe in the kitchen burst just before Kei left the house. While driving from Gardena to Little Tokyo in an Uber car, Aki explained to Wako-baachan how Uber works and spoke enthusiastically about the convenience and wonder of the world of smartphones. Seeing her grandson's lively expression, something moved in Wako's heart for the first time in a long time. Wako had the idea of "I wonder if I should learn how to use a smartphone as a new skill." Aki acted immediately. She sent a message to Tetsuro, who was still on a business trip to Japan, and had him give a new smartphone to Wako-baachan as a gift for her 77th birthday after returning to the United States. Aki was teaching her. The smartphone had a pink cover with a Hello Kitty mark.
In addition to being Aki's coach, Kazuko sometimes participates in the free "Smartphone Consultation Room" held at Little Tokyo Towers and the Pioneer Center. Kay takes her there, but on days when Kay is not available, she uses Uber. "It's like having a personal chauffeur. I'll go to the LAPD in March by myself, without bothering Kay," Kazuko said in a very good mood. Her expression has also brightened. Using Skype, she can easily see her family in Nara and her daughter in Silicon Valley and chat with them about their current situations. After losing her beloved Junichi, Kazuko had lost her positive attitude, but after she started her calligraphy lessons for her 77th birthday, her world has expanded and she felt like she could see some brightness in the rest of her life. She felt like she understood the meaning of her husband's last words, "Let's be grateful." "No matter how old you are, you should have new goals and dreams. Perhaps this is a gift from Junichi to me for his 77th birthday. Thank you, Junichi. Skype allows you to easily talk to people on the other side of the world, so I hope that as technology advances, one day I'll be able to chat with Junichi in heaven," mutters Wako-san, as she continues to work hard on her 77th birthday calligraphy.
*This story won the grand prize in the Japanese section of the Little Tokyo Historical Society 's 5th Short Story Contest.
© 2018 Akira Tsurukame
