109 / 164
109
with a single stock of rice seedlings skillfully push the seedlings into
the soft earth below. A familiar rhythm beats within their bones.
Memories come flooding back of my grandfather wearing this hat.
His lips pulled back with a grin that widened across his cheeks, it
grew until a crescent lit up his face as if the sun was on the other side
of his toothless grin. Looking to my left, I see the land that stretches
around the rivers, engulfing the rice paddies. Somewhere into the
distance lies the city with a pulse reverberating with a constant rush
of life, people. Vehicles fight to get through, a myriad of sounds echo
a muffled melody. I begin to search for traces of the past, hidden
treasures within the trees and shrubs; signs of the past, of the forlorn,
the unlucky.
Behind an old cherry blossom tree is an indication of the past, of
war. I stumble across an unfamiliar object this time. I wait for
grandfather to identify this mysterious piece, to hear the stories this
piece triggers. But he is not there, he will never be here again to
impart his knowledge, to hold me in his familiar ways, whispering
myths of monsters and heroes of the war.
Resorting to the riverbed, the site of our ceremonies, of my last
goodbye, tears stream down my cheeks as I long for my grandfather.
Crouching down, my fingertips barely touch the surface of the water.
The smell of the damp earth is strong. I remember a saying of
grandfather’s,
‘You will always have family, Harami,’ he pointed to my heart,
‘they are always in there.’
In the distance, the river winds its way aroundmountains, mapping
a distinct course. I will not miss my grandfather anymore, for he is
here, on the river, a single lantern floating downstream, flickering with
a radiant glow.
‘
Lanterns
11