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Location: Sakai, Osaka, Japan

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Water Eggplant and a Kitchen Knife (2)

 

     “How long can I keep my shop?”

     Koyoshi murmured, massaging her knees through her pants.

     She fell down the stairs at home 2 years ago and broke her knees.  Since then, she has had knee troubles.  For the time being, she was afraid of becoming bedridden.  After strenuous rehabilitation, she was able to walk with her back straightened.

     She was very lucky to get off just with knee troubles.

     “I wish I could see Nagisa’s children come and buy sweets.”

     “How many years you dare to live for!”

     Koyoshi is in her 80's.  If Nagisa were to get married and have children, Koyoshi would have become over 90 when Nagisa’s children should grow old enough to come and buy sweets.

     “So, I wonder till when.”

     How many years?  These words reminded Nagisa of many things.

     Her grandpa is so old.

     How many years can he be an artisan to sharpen knives?

     How many years can Nagisa keep working beside her grandpa?

     How many years should she keep waiting for her father?

     Her thoughts and feelings beyond her words were slowly deposited at the bottom of her mind.

     “The old should be replaced with the new.  My turn to be replaced is coming.  I know I have to make way for young people like you, Nagisa, but I still hope I can hold out for a short while.”

     Seeing Koyoshi’s backbone, “You should hang in there.” said Nagisa as cheerfully as possible.

     “I’m sorry to have kept you so long.  Your ice cream should be melting.”

     Her words suddenly reminded Nagisa of the cup’s having become soft.  She walked out of the shop to sit on a bench outside, and tore the lid of the cap off the sticky ice cream.  She pushed a wooden spatula into the tender ice cream, scooped a bit, and took it in her mouth.

     Asphalt gave off mirages, and choruses of cicadas roared like sirens.  Midday of midsummer.  There was not a soul to be seen on the street.  Cars passed by occasionally.

     The phrase “How many years?” stuck in her throat like a small fish bone.


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