Mom looks at Obaachan,
says yes.
They smile.
Inside
on clipped cotton
is the piece of umbilical cord
that dried and fell
from Miki’s belly button—
a souvenir of the cord
binding mother and baby.
Little Sister is entering the world.
Mom is returning
with softer eyes.
HOME
Papa arrives with a small bag of his own
for only one night with us.
We settle in.
Later, cozy with us all together
in Great-Grandfather’s room,
he says,
“I miss home.”
I stand up, pull the light cord, and tell them to look up.
kira, kira
a view of
fifty sparkling stars.
We have a good laugh together.
SLEEPING SISTER
After school
I can’t wait to be with Miki.
I read to her,
practice the pianika
and do my homework next to her
and the heater,
but she sleeps all the time
I am with her.
She looks nothing like me.
She’s smaller than I ever was
which means she will probably always be small.
Not like me at all.
The first time
she opens her eyes
and looks at me
I see she has eyes
just like Papa’s
just like Obaachan’s
just like mine.
NO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS
With end-of-the-year obligations
Papa has no time
to dig decorations out
at home.
We won’t see him until
Christmas.
He tells me to ask Obaachan
to bring out their Christmas tree,
the one Jiichan bought when Papa was a boy.
Mom tells her not to bother.
Obaachan says the tree has been gone for decades.
No Christmas tree?
I suggest cutting a branch from the garden.
And making paper decorations.
Mom tells me in English, “We can do without.”
Mom is a little like Obaachan.
She doesn’t want what she doesn’t want.
A PACKAGE IN THE MAIL
Addressed from Nana and Grandpa Bob,
it’s wrapped in brown paper
on the outside
and
underneath
in red paper
with a note
saying,
Don’t wait till Christmas!
Opened wide, it smells
like America
like Nana’s laundry room
where her washer and dryer share a room of their own,
a room where she keeps boxes for sending us things.
This box is filled with smaller packages for us all.
A note on Mom’s (the biggest) says, “A wish fulfilled.”
The Easy-Bake Oven
she always wanted,
but never got until now
guarantees she’ll get a Western cake.
For Papa
a package that feels like socks.
For Obaachan and Jiichan
a jar of grape jelly.
They tried mine once and liked it.
Obaachan accepted it with a smile.
For me
a video in English.
Pokémon
(Pocket Monsters
have an American name.)
For Miki
a bear sleeping on a crescent moon.
For “Baby’s First Christmas” tree.
A PACKAGE IN THE ENTRY HALL
Wrapped in department-store paper,
a narrow box greets me after school.
Obaachan says it is for us.
Mom and Miki and me.
An early present. From her.
We open it together in the TV room.
A Pocket Monsters Christmas tree.
Mom gasps
busies herself
with baby things.
I tell Obaachan thank you.
I know
Mom doesn’t like the tree.
She doesn’t like cartoon Christmas decorations.
She doesn’t say anything
until Obaachan leaves the room,
“She never buys anything and she buys this.”
I can’t believe Mom’s complaining
about a Christmas tree
about a gift.
TRAIN ANGEL
I look at my little sister
sleeping
my little sister
my little sister
learning.
I show and tell Mom about the origami doll.
I tell her
what Masa did to me
what I did to Masa
and what I told Obaachan
the meaning is.
I tell her I am trying to put peace in my heart.
I tell her I think Obaachan is trying too.
Mom takes the doll
from my hands,
places it on the tree,
and says,
“You’re right.”
Later I hear her
thanking Obaachan for the tree.
After tasting an Easy-Bake Oven cake,
Obaachan smiles
and does not comment.
These, I believe, are Christmas miracles.
A CHANGE OF HEART
Mom tells me we must talk
to the teacher, Masa’s mother, and Masa
after the holidays,
saying the same thing Obaachan said,
“Even an accident requires an apology.”
I hit Masa.
It was no accident.
I tell Mom I will apologize
first
before Christmas.
A DOLL FOR MASA
At Papa’s desk,
I dig through origami paper.
Stripes, Masa wears stripes.
Folding
cutting
pasting
I make a faceless boy doll.
I place him beside the girl doll.
She smiles up at me.
Her eyes are tiny dots.
Her smile, just a line.
Whoever drew this face knew
how to make a sweet face
how to give a sweet smile.
Eyes not too small,
not too close together.
A smile not too big,
not too curved.
Dots and lines.
It’s not easy.
Wish I had my NASA pen.
I know the feel of it in my hand.
I need it
to draw this face.
DOLL FACE
I choose a brush
one with the finest tip
from the set
Papa used to address wedding invitations.
I dribble water
poto poto
from a porcelain water pot
onto Great-Grandfather’s inkstone.
su su su su
back and forth
round and round
I rub an ink stick,
its name
“The Friend of Brush,”
on the stone.
I rub it into the puddle
with a soft touch.
Too much force will ruin the ink.
Stick on stone
stick and stone
meet.
Ink strengthens
water.
I lead it to the well,
the sea of the stone.
Brush meets ink
I introduce the paper.
The boy’s eyes stare up at
me.
Without the smile I cannot tell the feeling.
After a thousand smiles
on practice paper,
I take a breath
and draw one line
on the boy’s face.
Sweet.
CHANGING HEARTS
Drawing a heart isn’t easy either.
I waste paper
drawing and cutting
writing and deciding
on the message.
The yellow-green paper heart I make
is as big as the boy,
but I can’t decide on a message
short enough to fit inside.
The writing becomes too tiny
too hard to read.
Masa will have to read it quickly
before he tosses it
back at me.
MAKING PEACE WITH OBAACHAN
Fifth graders know the kanji
heiwa,
peace among nations,
peace among people.
We have not studied how to write
the kanji for peace in the heart, heion.
I ask Obaachan to teach me.
Stroke by stroke, I know
I will have to use
the one I know
Masa can read.
I tell her that one English word
is used to find
peace among nations
peace among people
peace in the heart.
Obaachan says Masa will understand my meaning.
I write the kanji for heiwa.
“Peace among people”
fills his heart.
MAKING PEACE WITH MASA
I find him at the shoe shelves after school.
He’s knocking
the toes of his shoes onto the floor
ready and set
to run out the door.
I jump in front of him and reach out
with the doll.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He clenches his hand
swings his arm
reaches out
takes the doll,
takes one look at it,
and takes off
running.
BEAUTIFUL DAY
I almost run
to Obaachan
to Mom
to Miki
to tell them
there is hope.
They meet me with good news.
Jiichan will leave the hospital soon!
ON THE NEWS
At a gathering at the Uwajima Fisheries High School
one hundred and twenty boxes
of personal items
recovered from victims,
students, teachers, crew members of the Ehime Maru
are given to their families;
to the principal
the school flag from the ship
to the captain
a bell from the steering room.
Heartbroken,
we all pledge to limit
Jiichan’s TV viewing
when he comes back.
DECEMBER 20, 2001
LOOKING UP
After school
we all run out
lift our faces
to snowflakes
anticipating
weekend fun.
Snowflakes drift
by the window, while
Mom dries my hair.
Obaachan fusses
as she leaves, saying
Jiichan’s return
will be difficult.
For the first time in my life
I am glad it stops snowing.
DECEMBER 21, 2001
JIICHAN’S HOMECOMING
He and Obaachan arrive by taxi.
He is
refreshed
like
from a long vacation,
a “soul vacation.”
His eyes are smiling above the mask
he wears for Miki
“just in case.”
Obaachan bought yuzu
to float in the bath
to warm the body
to calm the mind
and kabocha
to eat at dinner.
Funny to think
citrus fruit is bobbing in bathtubs
and Japanese pumpkin is boiling in pots
all over Japan
on this night of the winter solstice.
DECEMBER 21, 2001
DEFENSE OF JIICHAN
Mom told me
Papa told her
doctors told Obaachan
to create a less stressful home
for Jiichan’s heart.
We let him watch a comedy
while waiting for the bath to fill.
He is first in line,
sniffs the yuzu,
“Nice, eh?”
and heads for the bath
to soak with them.
We have timed his bath at the news.
Planes and boats chase
a North Korean boat
and exchange gunfire
off the shore of Japan.
Obaachan switches off the TV
before Jiichan comes out.
Shriveled pink
like a plum
he falls asleep at the table
and snores.
Nobody disturbs him.
DECEMBER 21, 2001
UNDER WINTER TREES
The sunniest time of year in the garden
Jiichan, in his quilted house jacket,
sits and enjoys
mejiro,
the green-feathered
acrobat of the treetops.
He’s not supposed to climb
to water the bonsai,
but he wants to
so I let him.
The pail is not so heavy;
not much water is needed now.
I am the lookout for Obaachan, but
I think he can get away with it—
nobody wants to bring him down.
He can do anything he wants.
Except smoke.
And watch the news.
HOLIDAY PREPARATION
Teacher explains
our holiday assignments,
hands us
worksheets of math,
schedules of reading assignments,
and a tight white paper roll
of five sheets
to practice our kakizome
at home.
Then, with her back to us,
she leads us
stroke by stroke
we trace the air
together
before our brushes
touch paper.
Stones ready
with bottled ink
we brush
a message
to practice
for our first calligraphy writing of the new year.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE EMPEROR
Two days off for Papa and me:
Sunday
and Christmas Eve!
We decided no presents from each other
this year. But I have secret plans for later.
Jiichan and Obaachan enjoy toast and their grape jelly
from Grandpa Bob and Nana.
Mom bakes another Easy Bake cake
(and does not have to share).
Papa relaxes in his cozy socks.
(With him) I watch Miki
not Pokémon.
Grandpa Bob and Nana call to say
NASA will track Santa!
Merry Christmas to all!
SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS
Santa found me
at Obaachan’s!
A present sits and will wait
for me under the Pocket Monster tree.
Papa leaves for work before
I get up
for just another school day,
the last one until January eighth
except today we sing “Silent Night”
and “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer”
and
Teacher hands out report cards.
Some students look;
others slide them into their book bags.
Teacher hands me an official paper
(not my official card)
with grades,
all okay but not great.
All my flower heads full and plucked
translated into lower numbers
than my usual high grades.
I am not going to let that ruin my Christmas.
PRESENT RETURNED
Saying no to invitations
to play on the playground,
I start alone
slower than I want to.
Loaded down
with art projects and school bags,
I am followed
by the sun
peeping through the clouds.
I see something
twinkling
like a fallen star.
My NASA pen!
Stuck in the dirt next to the sidewalk
so I would find it
my blue-sky wish
still inside.
Best Christmas ever!
OPENING
Santa brought me a music player
with headphones.
Papa will help me
pick out some music
when he comes for the New Year’s holiday.
We said no presents but
Obaachan bought a small Christmas cake
yellow sponge
whipped-cream frosting
strawberries between
knob flowers
with optional birthday candles
not Mom’s favorite
but she’s not complaining.
I gave the Sun painting to
Mom and Papa (when he comes).
I bought Obaachan a bottle of vinegar.
I have heard her say, “Useful presents are best.”
I gave Jiichan the purple heart.
I plan to give Miki
her first look at the night sky.
PRESENT RECEIVED
Grandpa Bob and Nana
called to say thank you to everyone
for the handkerchiefs.
Brought back memories for them;
they used to carry handkerchiefs in the old days.
“Supermoon on the twenty-eighth,” Grandpa Bob tells me.
I have to wait
to give Miki her present.
But I hope her first moon will be SUPER.
ENDING AND BEGINNING
Christmas is put away