Authors: Holly Thompson
Koichi and I then assemble
an outside altar
on a post
like a birdhouse
that we cover with greens
and into which Baachan sets
another cup of water
and bowl of rice
for Jiichan
we hang a lantern
under the roof eave
to guide him home
and Baachan sighs
next morning
Baachan makes me light incense
ring the bell
and think a prayer
before the priest comes
to chant sutras
then after the priest departs
to do his rounds
in the village
and the district
up and down
the entire coast
I’m told
I have the day off to do
whatever
I want
so I take the three-speed bike out
of the garage
and Koichi sees me
asks where I’m going
and I say
that way
—
I’ve never been to the cape
and he says
I’ll go with you
finds a bike with deflated tires
that he inflates and tests
and grabs two thermoses
of cold tea
and then we are off
me leading
Koichi following
out of Kohama
we ride through
mikan
and fishing villages
one after another
to the farthest west cape
of hotels and dive shops
where we leave our bikes
walk to a small shrine
then follow a path
out the arm of the cape
that takes us to …
a pond?
freshwater
with koi
crazy close
to the sea
and gnarled twisted trees
that Koichi says are
treasures over a thousand years old
though I don’t know how
they could have stood for so long
on a narrow strip of land
constantly battered by waves
wind
and typhoons
at the tip of rocky cape
we sit to drink from our thermoses
and gaze across the bay to a stubborn
Mount Fuji
that refuses to budge
from the haze
then from rock to rock
we hop and leap around
waves slapping and crashing
at our feet as we poke through
washed-up trash
Koichi finds a rubber ball
we play catch with
and I find a small bucket
and in it put
smooth round rocks
after we loop back
we stop at a beach hut
and Koichi orders
lemon soda
for me
beer for him
and we listen to divers talk about oxygen tanks
and lessons
and fish
and Koichi asks lots of questions
and I can tell he wants to learn to dive
and I’m thinking I’d like to try that, too
going down into the sea
to find gliding
darting
colors
just
for fun
L
ate afternoon when the sun
has dropped behind the hills
west of Kohama
we light a small welcome fire
by the entrance of the house
to guide the spirits
I think
with all the signs
we have left
there is no way
Jiichan will go astray and
not be able
to find us
we walk past other welcome fires
set along the river, on the bridge, in driveways
and head uphill to the temple and cemetery
where we fill a bucket with water
climb the hillside of graves
full of villagers
and visitors
all with buckets of
sloshing
water
Uncle lights incense
and hands us each some sticks
and I do whatever
Aunt and Koichi and Yurie do
place some incense
in a part of the stone
and pray with other sticks
to my ancestors
even though officially
these ancestors
are no longer mine
my mother being outside of
and no longer part of
this Mano family line
still, outsider or not
I help drizzle water on greens
and into vases
and on the polished stone
I place tiny piles of
rice and minced eggplant
nourishment
for spirits
I think how in New York
all we ever do is take flowers
to the grave of Dad’s mother
and place small stones on the top
of the grave
once a year
maybe twice
that’s all
I think of you, Ruth,
and I think of me
just bringing flowers
and placing stones
and how that shouldn’t
be all I do
for you
here in Kohama we pause
at other Mano graves
greet, visit and chat
with neighbors and relatives
and the many branches
of the Mano family tree
on the hillside
overlooking the bay
at dusk
seeing this I realize
there must be part of my mother
who never wanted to leave
this place
we walk downhill
to the pier
where reflected in
the water are
more welcome fires
torches lit
for all the spirits
to be sure
they find their way
these spirits who must be
hopeless
with directions
N
ext day an aunt arrives
second-eldest sister of my mother
with her husband
and their son Kota,
their other son Yuta
having gone off
with university friends to
an island somewhere
to snorkel and kayak
Kota seems to wish he, too
were on an island
somewhere
anywhere
Baachan issues orders
about serving tea and
squares of fruit
kanten
and a bowl of purple grapes
that I set out on the table
in the receiving room
by the special Obon altar
all decorated
with vegetables
and greens
later I ask Kota why they aren’t visiting his father’s family
and Kota says that his father is third son
and his mother second daughter
they are a new branch family
and no one has died
so they are
free
I’m told to take Kota
to wander the festival stalls
near the village hall but
there is nothing really for us
just booths
for catching goldfish
and yoyos
and a few arcade games
for little kids
so we buy a couple of
dripping cold sodas
and walk out to the pier
past small piles of burned sticks
and ash from the welcome fires
and I tell him I think it would
just be easier to give
the spirits GPS-activated
cell phones
Kota laughs
and we sit down on
an overturned boat
and drink our sodas
but it’s too hot out there
on the pier so we
walk along other docks
following the high-tide line
to where the shore gets wider
and sit down in an arc of shade
made from a rise of sandstone cliff
that climbs behind us
and leans out
over us
precariously
toward the water
Kota pulls a music player
from a pocket
gives me one earbud
and him the other
and we sit there on the rocks by the sea
which seems to have been stilled
by this first-day-of-August heat
listening to songs
looking over the water
it’s like there is no opposite
northern shore today
like the bay
is really the Pacific
the haze is so thick
I tell him that Mount Fuji
really is there
right there
and he says
sure
sarcastic
then he says
but summer’s no good for Fuji-san anyway
you have to see it with its snowcap
in winter
which may be true
but I still like it
even blue-gray
faint
and barely there
in summer