Cold Bright day. White Breath. Beautiful low peach winter sun. Birds are singing in the middle of pale tree. Storm brought snowman to a new jacket last night. He is smiling with carrot mouth. Picked up the newspaper. Under the sunbeams, colorful advertisement becomes stained glass. Looked up the garden. Small playground is covering by decade of time and scent of snow.
The boy just came back from New York City from his college study. On the way back, from the train station to his house, he could not find Tatami store where he used to go to get a little snack from oba‑chan. In a small white town, small stores are closing rapidly. He noticed his mother holding a big bag of huge chain supermarket with English letters. His mother gave him it for a trash bag last night.
His Father is hiding his face by newspaper. From boy’s sight, Dice‑K is smiling with Red and White sports wear.
“Dad, Red Sox won last night,” said the boy.
“What was the score?” said the father. They are still talking thorough the wall of gray papers.
“3‑2” says the boy.
After a tiny silence, “Yes!!” the father says. “Now I can go to work without worries.” His voice was clear than he used to.
That voice reminds the boy of his childhood.
Steams of rice and miso soup are playing with the sunbeam. Small table. The boy’s feet are not used to floor sitting anymore. Mother comes to the table. A bit of run from the kitchen. When he is carrying his egg roll to his mouth, his younger sister, one hung over young lady, comes down the stairs as she knows the breakfast is ready. She just came back at early morning with a half destroyed cosmetic face. The boy notices that their conversation is getting less. Even in the living room, many new plastic friends came. They do not talk. People talk to them. Passing the salt, refill the rice to dad, give egg rolls to sister, mother pour the miso soup. Even in a little quiet breakfast, the boy was crying in his mind from family warmness. The boy was homesick. There is no more jet lag. He thought. How warm the family is. “You are not finishing your meal?” says the mother. “She is trying to lose her weight,” she whispers to son and husband. “You look good on it!” the mother cheered her. The sister never opens her mouth except carries her rice and she gone to the restroom as known as a cosmetic room.
The boy wondered what to do that day. He decided to go to the city. At the entrance, as he tie his shoes, smell of grandmas zouri and smell of younger sisters Chanel are mixing. One winter morning. This is the smell of his house. This is the smell of Japan.
Kikuta Norihiro, an international student from Sapporo, Japan, recently graduated from Berklee.
