The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,27
at one point stepping back and seeing the wonder and enjoyment on the faces around her, had fallen out of the habit of living in the moment. Enjoying what they could see rather than trying to capture it to show other people. It was like putting a butterfly in a jar: the short term gain fizzled out very quickly when it died. People should be immersing themselves in the moment.
The revelation hit her with surprising weight, it wasn’t something she’d ever thought about properly before. She wanted her pictures to be more, to tell a story, to make people look deeper, to see more than a picture. Rather like Gabe’s pictures of Yumi. He would understand, she thought. Tomorrow she wouldn’t be so easily fobbed off. If he had work, she would go to his studio and watch him. Learn from him.
But in the meantime, she was going to enjoy Mayu’s company and this afternoon the famous cherry blossom was bound to provide plenty of material.
Chapter 6
The trees were dripping with blossom, fat, fistfuls of pink petals lining the starkly contrasting dark branches and Fiona couldn’t help but reach out to touch the pink pom-poms and feel the velvet softness against the tips of her fingers. Ueno Park was more spectacular than she could possibly have imagined.
‘This is …’ Her eyes shone as she tried to take it all in.
Mayu rolled her eyes. ‘Lame but kinda cool too. My mom and Jiji come here every year.’
‘With you?’
‘Yeah.’ Her round face creased into a sudden naughty grin. ‘Don’t tell them, but I like it really. It’s a family tradition. We come again at the weekend with Dad and Ojīchan. But I like it when it’s the three of us … and you of course,’ she added quickly. ‘Come this way; we have a favourite place.’ She linked her arm through Fiona’s and led the way along the path.
The trees that lined the avenue next to the lake ranged as far as the eye could see, along with vast numbers of people who had come out to see them. Fiona was astounded by the positively festive atmosphere and the tangible excitement that buzzed in the air. The noise of people chattering and exclaiming was louder than a flock of geese and the paths were so crowded it was difficult to find room to raise her arms to take any pictures until Haruka and Setsuko led her off the path under the branches. Underneath the trees, small family groups sat on blankets enjoying picnics, their hair dappled with the odd falling petal.
‘This is …’
‘Cherry blossom,’ said Mayu with a deliberate yawn but her eyes glinted with mischief.
‘Once a year,’ scolded Hakura. ‘Once a year. And every year different. If the wind comes too soon …’ She waved her hand to indicate that the petals would be wafted into the sky. ‘It is the cycle of life.’
‘That is what makes it special,’ explained Setsuko. ‘That it is here for such a short time and we must make the most of it. There are blossom reports telling people when are the best times to come so you can see the trees at their best. They also warn if a storm is coming. That is beautiful too but signals the end of the sakura. It is nature, birth, beauty and death.’
‘Ephemeral,’ said Fiona, immediately understanding what she was getting at.
‘Yes.’ Setsuko’s gentle smile was full of approval while Haruka was giving her granddaughter a telling glare.
‘It is beautiful, Jiji,’ said Mayu dutifully, with a wink at Fiona, bringing back a memory of the cherry blossom appearing and fading in the digital museum. Haruka’s face softened and she patted Mayu on the arm and said something that Fiona guessed was along the lines of, ‘you’re a good girl really.’
Setsuko unrolled a blanket that she’d had tucked under her arm and Mayu took it from her without being asked, spreading it under the nearest cherry tree. Haruka produced a rectangular, two-tiered bamboo box, held together with a grey strap, and placed it in the centre of the heavy cotton blanket before inviting everyone to come and sit. Undoing the strap and taking off the top lid, Setsuko offered the box to Fiona. ‘Onigiri.’
Inside were two rows of small, triangular-shaped rice balls. She took one and bit into it and found that the centre was both sharp and sweet and absolutely delicious.
‘Mm, that’s good,’ she said pointing to the middle. ‘What’s this?’