Nikko, Japan 1997

Wheat brushed against her bare ankles in the warm breeze as she stood barefoot, painting, in the sun sopped meadow. Her yellow boombox, which was covered in faded stickers of her favorite bands, laid beside her blasting Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. She sang along while she mixed her oil paints, dark-plum purple and blood red. Paint flowed on the canvas like water as she painted an image from the song Dreams, a woman under a thunderstorm being washed clean.

Ayoko stayed in the field until dark. The moon was enormous that night, creamy white light washed over her and left a milky hue on her skin. She sat staring at the stars for hours thinking the ideas she had no one to share with in the countryside. Loneliness washed over her when she stuffed back the words she wanted to say, with no one to listen. “Ayoko! Come in the house the mamekogane are out! They’ll get stuck in your hair!” Itsuki yelled.

“Ok oton just 5 more minutes!” Ayoko yelled back.

Just then she heard a night beetle buzz frantically near her head, she pulled her hair back, tied it, and sprinted for the house.

“Oton, come check my hair!”

He took a long sip of his hojicha tea and shuffled over to Ayoko. He began to sift through the thick strands, his dry fingers made a soft sound against them. Her black hair flickered and reflected light with his gentle movements. He knew the mamekogane was not trapped in her hair but he cherished the summer ritual, so he sifted through many more minutes than he needed. It made him feel as though she was little Ayoko again and that she would always need him, at least for this.

“You are good Ayoko-chan.”

“Domo oton.”

Itsuki made a pot of genmaicha tea and put on a record. They sat sipping their steaming cups and listening to the album Mignonne by Taeko Onuki, the record was dusty but Ayoko loved the fuzzy sound it made. Itsuki put on this record every night. Her mother had bought it in Tokyo in 1972, when her and Itsuki still lived in the city. Ayoko remembered her dancing to the record when she was little, her dress would flutter as she swayed, and she would pick her up and swing her in her arms. Neither of them spoke, but Ayoko knew he was thinking of her too.

In the morning, Ayoko woke up with the sun and the cuckoo birds. She had only one dream and it was of her mother living in an apartment in Tokyo. It wasn’t her old apartment like the ones she had seen in photo albums, it was bigger with hardwood floors and velvet curtains. The dream had a warm orange tint that made it feel familiar. Her mother looked ecstatic, she wore a rose red silk dress that piled behind her ankles, and round sunglasses. Her hair was done up by one silver clasp, that was too loose, and strands were falling out the whole dream. She woke up right as her mother leaned on the window sill, looked out over the night lights of Tokyo, and lit a cigarette smiling.

Ayoko stayed in bed for an hour trying to soak up the dream and not let her mother slip away.

At 12:00 pm she went to make a breakfast of steamed rice with an egg and a small dish of miso soup. Her father, Itsuki, was sitting at the dining table reading The Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami as she went to join him at the table and tell him about her dream.

“Oton, I had the loveliest dream last night.”

“Yes?” He replied.

She told him of the beautiful apartment and how happy her mother looked in the city. He nodded along listening.

“I want to go,” Ayoko said. “I want to move to Tokyo.”

Itsuki’s eyes flickered. He stared into his cup of tea silently.

“Oton?”

Ayoko tried to meet his eyes but he wouldn’t look up.

“Ayoko-chan, the city is too big for you, you'll drown. The country is home, you will not go.” His voice was so sure it filled Ayoko with rage.

“OTON! I will be 18 in 3 weeks!” Ayoko was shocked with her tone of voice, she never disobeyed her father.

“Go to bed. A good night of sleep will cure your hysterical thoughts.”

She ran to her room and manically paced about. Ayoko loved living in Nikko, but never imagined this was all life had to offer. She desired to be a famous painter, with gallery shows and gushing fans. She craved more passion than wheat fields and silent moonlit nights had to utter. Her mind flooded with fear of never leaving the country and spending her years alone like her father.

Ayoko grabbed a suitcase from her closet, which had been her mothers, it was sun faded leather and covered in cigarette burns. She couldn’t help but wonder if her mother had left it to her for this reason. Ayoko began to pack everything in sight. Her paints and brushes, mountains of clothes, and by the end there was only room left for 3 CD’s on top. She laid Three Imaginary Boys - The Cure, The Kick Inside - Kate Bush, and Goats Head Soup - The Rolling Stones on top of her socks and zipped the case close.

By the time she had finished packing it was around 1 in the morning and the moon was as luminescent as the night before. Ayoko peaked out her window to look at the cobblestone path that led to the main road, and the white rocks glowed under the soft moonlight. She grabbed her wallet and stuffed all of last summer's savings from working on the neighbors rice farm into it. Her feat squeaked as she crossed over the wood floors in the living room and she held her breath until she had closed the front door behind her.

As Ayoko stood on the front porch she heard nothing but her sloshing heart, and was gripping her suitcase so tight her knuckles turned white. Yet she started walking down the cobblestone path to life in Tokyo, and said goodbye to her last quiet country night.

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Domo: Thank you

Oton: Dad

Mamekogane: A Japanese night beetle

-Chan: term of endearment