RT（用Notepad++弄的）
1
Where are you?
That question runs through my head, as constant as the trickling village stream. I'm so used to it, that now it's almost comforting.
I'll see you soon, I know that. But until then, write back, won't you?
2
The morning is always full of hope. That's when I write these letters. Sitting at my dresser, before I descend the stairs - heart thumping at the thought of what might rest beneath the letterbox. I'll admit it, I delay going down sometimes. It means I can bathe in this feeling a little longer. Most mornings, I'm greeted by cold, bare tiles. But some days there's a pile of white envelopes, teasing me. I race through them, convincing myself that I wouldn't recognise your handwriting. Any one of them could be from you. Even the typed ones - you could be a professional now, after all. (Do you remember Yori from across the road? She's a manager now!) You always had it in you to do so well.
I know I won't find a letter today and that's all right. My birthday is only two weeks away. If you'll write, it will be then won't it? There's no point using two stamps for a separate letter and a card.
In the meantime, I'll keep writing, just in case.
Love, your Mother
3
Kiko,
I visited the temple today. The stone steps are hard on my bad knee, but it's peaceful there. I remember taking you as a child. You would stop and touch every red lantern lining our way. And how you loved lighting the incense and watching the smoke curl into the crisp air!</english>
Don't worry, I remembered to thank the temple guardians as I passed over the threshold. You were always so scared they'd chase after you if you forgot!
The shrine was empty and quiet, apart from the chirruping birds overhead and wind whispering through the leaves of that ancient red cedar tree.
And when I hung the Ema for you, my prayer written on the back of the plaque, I felt the strangest sense of calm. I prayed to know you were safe, and somehow, I did.
So all in all, it's been a brilliant birthday.
4
I just checked the letter box and found a belated birthday note from your aunt and - you won't believe this - but when I turned up to my meeting last night, Hiroto-san had bought me a cake! I think I've mentioned him before, he's a gentleman from my meetings. I was shocked he remembered. I must have mentioned that I was expecting a letter from you for my birthday months ago.
Yes, yes. I talk about you in my meetings. The hall's thirty kilometers down the mountain, outside the village, so no one knows me - or more importantly - you, there. It's one of the only places I can mention you without having pity poured on me.
Five years later in the village and I'm still Maru-san, the woman whose behavior drove her daughter away.
5
No one talks about you anymore. Did you know that? When you first disappeared the whole village was out looking for you. I was there too, thinking that the flask in my bag was so discreet. The further we racked over the mountain fields; the more I reached into my bag. We formed a human chain and walked until the sun's shadows grew long and fragile.
Then I did that interview in the city, thinking it would bring you back.
I still can't read the things they wrote about me. Gossip spread from house to house. Sympathies shifted. Fewer people turned up to the searches I organized, until it was me and your aunt left alone, handing out posters to passers-by.
Now, the only time I hear your name is when I play our answerphone greeting. I know, I know - I should change it, but why bother, when no one rings?
6
Sorry about my last letter, I was letting old memories surface.
Anyway, I did something very unlike me on Tuesday. I phoned Hiroto-san!
It's not like that. He's an upright gentleman. He wouldn't bother with romance with someone like me. But every meeting he tells me to call if I need to talk, and last night I was filled with so much despair that it made me bold!
Aiko-san from next door glared at me strangely from the side of the road this morning, and I was afraid she heard me through the walls. I haven't spoken aloud in my own house in years. I certainly haven't laughed.
Sometimes I think that pinched-faced woman was pleased you left. She wanted a daughter all her life and was given two sons. I even remember her calling you chubby just before you left! Then when you ran away... nothing. We'd lived next door to her for eighteen years and she didn't even say she was sorry.
I'm glad you threw so many balls into her courtyard. It used to irritate her so much!
7
I wish that old boyfriend of yours had stayed in the village. You'll think that's odd, as I despised him at the time. I'm sorry for that now. I know times have changed since I was young and that eighteen isn't too young to have a boyfriend, but the whole village was talking about it, Kiko!
After it was clear you weren't coming back, he left too. At least if he was here, I could talk to him about you. I'd have someone who really knew you to share my memories with, not just the sympathetic villagers. I know your aunt is only two hours away but it's such a long journey, and she's busy with her own family.
At least I have these letters. Catching the bus to the city and pinning them to the 'missing' board is the best part of my week.
8
It's your favorite time of the year again! Kaki season. Every box outside the farmhouse is full with dried kaki for 100 yen, or bottles of fermented plums. I'm never tempted to go for the bottles, not anymore. Instead, I put 200 yen into the bamboo shoot beside the box yesterday and bought two packets of kaki. One for me, one for Hiroto-san. (Last meeting, he offered to help me with the temple steps next time I visited.)
We met on the mountain road, outside the police house. Two herons swept through the blue sky above and I adjusted my hat, probably more out of nerves than to block the sun.
It was silly to be nervous, I know. But I haven't arranged to meet anyone other than your aunt for years. Hiroto-san was early, of course. We both hung Ema in the shrine. I didn't read his, but I imagined it was to his dear, departed wife. Then we walked along the river to the kyoho orchard.
I don't know why I'm telling you this. It's just that it was a peaceful day.
That's all.
9
You won't believe who I saw in the city yesterday when I was pinning up your letter. Yushin-san... your old boyfriend! I would recognize that strong jaw and dark messy hair anywhere. He was shocked to see me, but after a moment he offered to buy me a pot of tea so we could talk. I have to admit, he seems a kind enough fellow. I may have misjudged him.
I suppose I misjudged a lot of things back then. Otherwise you wouldn't have run away.
I saw something else strange, too. When Yushin-san opened his wallet to pay for our tea, I spotted an old photograph of you! You looked about five years old. I saw those deep eyes and flushed cheeks that I remember so well. Although, I'm sure I have never seen that school picture before.
I'm ashamed to admit that. Perhaps I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't notice my daughter bringing home her school photograph.
Anyway, I want you to know that you have my blessing if you wanted to be with Yushin-san.
It's only five years too late.
10
Oh, Kiko, I need your help! Hiroto-san is coming over for dinner. I don't know how it happened. One minute I was telling him about the mystery of Yushin-san's photo, and the next he was offering to help me look through everything I'd put into storage to see if we could find the school picture. Obviously, I said I'd cook for him whilst he was here. It was only on the bus home that I remembered about the neighbors.
What if Aiko-san sees us and gossip spreads through the village? There's only two dozen houses here in the mountain, what will everyone think of me?
The dinner isn't until next week but I've already started smoking meat above the iroli. But Kiko, how should I arrange the fusuma? I want the house to look airy and clean. And I don't have anything special to wear.
Perhaps I should tell him not to come. Aiko-san will gossip, and I don't know what I'm doing without you.
Yes, I'll cancel. I'll tell Hiroto-san to forget about the photograph.
11
My letters to you have gone.
Letters drop off the 'missing' board all the time, or get buried beneath the new ones. But not like this. Every single one of my letters has been taken down.
Was it you, Kiko?
12
Mother,
How do I begin this letter? There are so many things I should say. Let me start with, I'm sorry. Sorry for making you worry all these years. Truth be told, I thought you would be surrounded by bottles, not even noticing that I'd gone.
I didn't run away because of you, Mother. It was because of me. I was chubby when I left, but not because of all the rice crackers I'd been eating! Yushin-san and I were expecting a child.
You were so concerned about what the neighbors thought of you - I was worried you'd be ashamed. Yushin-san and I weren't married, and still have no plans to do so, although we do live together now with our beautiful daughter, Emiko.
I've wanted to tell you for so long but I was scared. The more time passed, the more I thought you'd hate me.
But when Yushin-san told me that he saw you in the city, my heart broke. He was so impressed with everything that you'd achieved in your meetings. I'm so thankful he brought your letters to me, I haven't stopped crying since I opened them.
The village sounds exactly the same! I miss it. And you.
That photograph you saw in Yushin-san's wallet was of Emiko, your granddaughter. She'd love to meet you one day soon.
Kiko
P.S. Don't you dare cancel the dinner with Hiroto-san. He won't care about the fusuma, he clearly adores you!
13
Kiko,
You're safe, I always knew you were. I'm sitting here with Hiroto-san (forget the neighbors, I called him as soon as I saw your letter!) and can hardly write for my shaking hand.
Please don't apologize for anything. All the fault is with me. How could I fail to notice my daughter was expecting a child?
A granddaughter! I have a granddaughter!
I can't remember a time when I was this happy.
When will you visit? I'll buy some new futons. And what does Emiko like to eat? I'll make all her favorites.
I'm so glad you found a life with Yushin-san, I always liked that boy. I have a thousand more things to write, but now that I have the chance to say them to your face, these letters suddenly don't seem as important.
I'll see you soon (I can't believe I'm writing those words and know them to be true).
1
Where are you?
That question runs through my head, as constant as the trickling village stream. I'm so used to it, that now it's almost comforting.
I'll see you soon, I know that. But until then, write back, won't you?
2
The morning is always full of hope. That's when I write these letters. Sitting at my dresser, before I descend the stairs - heart thumping at the thought of what might rest beneath the letterbox. I'll admit it, I delay going down sometimes. It means I can bathe in this feeling a little longer. Most mornings, I'm greeted by cold, bare tiles. But some days there's a pile of white envelopes, teasing me. I race through them, convincing myself that I wouldn't recognise your handwriting. Any one of them could be from you. Even the typed ones - you could be a professional now, after all. (Do you remember Yori from across the road? She's a manager now!) You always had it in you to do so well.
I know I won't find a letter today and that's all right. My birthday is only two weeks away. If you'll write, it will be then won't it? There's no point using two stamps for a separate letter and a card.
In the meantime, I'll keep writing, just in case.
Love, your Mother
3
Kiko,
I visited the temple today. The stone steps are hard on my bad knee, but it's peaceful there. I remember taking you as a child. You would stop and touch every red lantern lining our way. And how you loved lighting the incense and watching the smoke curl into the crisp air!</english>
Don't worry, I remembered to thank the temple guardians as I passed over the threshold. You were always so scared they'd chase after you if you forgot!
The shrine was empty and quiet, apart from the chirruping birds overhead and wind whispering through the leaves of that ancient red cedar tree.
And when I hung the Ema for you, my prayer written on the back of the plaque, I felt the strangest sense of calm. I prayed to know you were safe, and somehow, I did.
So all in all, it's been a brilliant birthday.
4
I just checked the letter box and found a belated birthday note from your aunt and - you won't believe this - but when I turned up to my meeting last night, Hiroto-san had bought me a cake! I think I've mentioned him before, he's a gentleman from my meetings. I was shocked he remembered. I must have mentioned that I was expecting a letter from you for my birthday months ago.
Yes, yes. I talk about you in my meetings. The hall's thirty kilometers down the mountain, outside the village, so no one knows me - or more importantly - you, there. It's one of the only places I can mention you without having pity poured on me.
Five years later in the village and I'm still Maru-san, the woman whose behavior drove her daughter away.
5
No one talks about you anymore. Did you know that? When you first disappeared the whole village was out looking for you. I was there too, thinking that the flask in my bag was so discreet. The further we racked over the mountain fields; the more I reached into my bag. We formed a human chain and walked until the sun's shadows grew long and fragile.
Then I did that interview in the city, thinking it would bring you back.
I still can't read the things they wrote about me. Gossip spread from house to house. Sympathies shifted. Fewer people turned up to the searches I organized, until it was me and your aunt left alone, handing out posters to passers-by.
Now, the only time I hear your name is when I play our answerphone greeting. I know, I know - I should change it, but why bother, when no one rings?
6
Sorry about my last letter, I was letting old memories surface.
Anyway, I did something very unlike me on Tuesday. I phoned Hiroto-san!
It's not like that. He's an upright gentleman. He wouldn't bother with romance with someone like me. But every meeting he tells me to call if I need to talk, and last night I was filled with so much despair that it made me bold!
Aiko-san from next door glared at me strangely from the side of the road this morning, and I was afraid she heard me through the walls. I haven't spoken aloud in my own house in years. I certainly haven't laughed.
Sometimes I think that pinched-faced woman was pleased you left. She wanted a daughter all her life and was given two sons. I even remember her calling you chubby just before you left! Then when you ran away... nothing. We'd lived next door to her for eighteen years and she didn't even say she was sorry.
I'm glad you threw so many balls into her courtyard. It used to irritate her so much!
7
I wish that old boyfriend of yours had stayed in the village. You'll think that's odd, as I despised him at the time. I'm sorry for that now. I know times have changed since I was young and that eighteen isn't too young to have a boyfriend, but the whole village was talking about it, Kiko!
After it was clear you weren't coming back, he left too. At least if he was here, I could talk to him about you. I'd have someone who really knew you to share my memories with, not just the sympathetic villagers. I know your aunt is only two hours away but it's such a long journey, and she's busy with her own family.
At least I have these letters. Catching the bus to the city and pinning them to the 'missing' board is the best part of my week.
8
It's your favorite time of the year again! Kaki season. Every box outside the farmhouse is full with dried kaki for 100 yen, or bottles of fermented plums. I'm never tempted to go for the bottles, not anymore. Instead, I put 200 yen into the bamboo shoot beside the box yesterday and bought two packets of kaki. One for me, one for Hiroto-san. (Last meeting, he offered to help me with the temple steps next time I visited.)
We met on the mountain road, outside the police house. Two herons swept through the blue sky above and I adjusted my hat, probably more out of nerves than to block the sun.
It was silly to be nervous, I know. But I haven't arranged to meet anyone other than your aunt for years. Hiroto-san was early, of course. We both hung Ema in the shrine. I didn't read his, but I imagined it was to his dear, departed wife. Then we walked along the river to the kyoho orchard.
I don't know why I'm telling you this. It's just that it was a peaceful day.
That's all.
9
You won't believe who I saw in the city yesterday when I was pinning up your letter. Yushin-san... your old boyfriend! I would recognize that strong jaw and dark messy hair anywhere. He was shocked to see me, but after a moment he offered to buy me a pot of tea so we could talk. I have to admit, he seems a kind enough fellow. I may have misjudged him.
I suppose I misjudged a lot of things back then. Otherwise you wouldn't have run away.
I saw something else strange, too. When Yushin-san opened his wallet to pay for our tea, I spotted an old photograph of you! You looked about five years old. I saw those deep eyes and flushed cheeks that I remember so well. Although, I'm sure I have never seen that school picture before.
I'm ashamed to admit that. Perhaps I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't notice my daughter bringing home her school photograph.
Anyway, I want you to know that you have my blessing if you wanted to be with Yushin-san.
It's only five years too late.
10
Oh, Kiko, I need your help! Hiroto-san is coming over for dinner. I don't know how it happened. One minute I was telling him about the mystery of Yushin-san's photo, and the next he was offering to help me look through everything I'd put into storage to see if we could find the school picture. Obviously, I said I'd cook for him whilst he was here. It was only on the bus home that I remembered about the neighbors.
What if Aiko-san sees us and gossip spreads through the village? There's only two dozen houses here in the mountain, what will everyone think of me?
The dinner isn't until next week but I've already started smoking meat above the iroli. But Kiko, how should I arrange the fusuma? I want the house to look airy and clean. And I don't have anything special to wear.
Perhaps I should tell him not to come. Aiko-san will gossip, and I don't know what I'm doing without you.
Yes, I'll cancel. I'll tell Hiroto-san to forget about the photograph.
11
My letters to you have gone.
Letters drop off the 'missing' board all the time, or get buried beneath the new ones. But not like this. Every single one of my letters has been taken down.
Was it you, Kiko?
12
Mother,
How do I begin this letter? There are so many things I should say. Let me start with, I'm sorry. Sorry for making you worry all these years. Truth be told, I thought you would be surrounded by bottles, not even noticing that I'd gone.
I didn't run away because of you, Mother. It was because of me. I was chubby when I left, but not because of all the rice crackers I'd been eating! Yushin-san and I were expecting a child.
You were so concerned about what the neighbors thought of you - I was worried you'd be ashamed. Yushin-san and I weren't married, and still have no plans to do so, although we do live together now with our beautiful daughter, Emiko.
I've wanted to tell you for so long but I was scared. The more time passed, the more I thought you'd hate me.
But when Yushin-san told me that he saw you in the city, my heart broke. He was so impressed with everything that you'd achieved in your meetings. I'm so thankful he brought your letters to me, I haven't stopped crying since I opened them.
The village sounds exactly the same! I miss it. And you.
That photograph you saw in Yushin-san's wallet was of Emiko, your granddaughter. She'd love to meet you one day soon.
Kiko
P.S. Don't you dare cancel the dinner with Hiroto-san. He won't care about the fusuma, he clearly adores you!
13
Kiko,
You're safe, I always knew you were. I'm sitting here with Hiroto-san (forget the neighbors, I called him as soon as I saw your letter!) and can hardly write for my shaking hand.
Please don't apologize for anything. All the fault is with me. How could I fail to notice my daughter was expecting a child?
A granddaughter! I have a granddaughter!
I can't remember a time when I was this happy.
When will you visit? I'll buy some new futons. And what does Emiko like to eat? I'll make all her favorites.
I'm so glad you found a life with Yushin-san, I always liked that boy. I have a thousand more things to write, but now that I have the chance to say them to your face, these letters suddenly don't seem as important.
I'll see you soon (I can't believe I'm writing those words and know them to be true).
