EN - Memories Falling Out of the Sky

I love the sound of rice falling into a jar.

My rice jar is not that big, so I get to listen to it maybe once every other week.

I have a childhood memory of hearing the sound as my mother and grandmother did the same.

It's a melody of fruition created by farmers' hard labor and blessings of the sun and rain.

I also have a vivid auditory memory of hearing it in one scene of a movie where a young boy gets rationed rice during the WWII. I interpreted the sound as hope for life. 

I hope that someday my child will listen to me pouring rice into a jar and feel the peace I always felt and feel appreciation for all living things.

I bet that each culture has the sound of food that comforts the people from the culture.

I happened to come across a photo of Akari at age 16 warming up for a rhythmic gymnastics practice at a high school gymnasium. 

(The leg actually could go over my head.)

A moment of my youth...

Well, you may be wondering, "How about now?"

So I tried.

Maybe not as flexible as I used to be, but it's alright ;-)

Shoyu mame (fried horse beans soaked in soy sauce)

My friend, Take-chan always brings this package for me every March when he visits Hawaii from Japan. Thank you, Take-chan! The beans remind me of taste of Japan.

Since I was a little child, I always dreamed about sleeping on a crescent moon.

How cozy that must be to be cuddled by it.

When I was a little child, I used to feel a little melancholy at sunset but felt reassured whenever I saw light outflowing from someone's home. 

Even the light I happened to see in my own small house had a gentle light (when I took a photo of the moon). 

I told myself, "You would be surrounded in it when you go in."

And we're creating memories everyday.

Someday, you might remember the warmth of the sun on the particular day.

Someday, you might remember how the fallen leaves danced on and made dry music with the paved road.

The photo above was taken while I took an evening with with my Indian dance teacher's son, while thinking, "Your hands will be bigger than mine someday."

I wonder if there would be a day when he remembers my hand.

I didn't know that there was such thing as a National Sibling's Day. It was April 10th this year.

So, here is a photo of my brother Michimasa (age 5 at that time) and me (almost 9).

We were about to go to a local summer festival (probably bon dance festival), so we both wore yukata (summer kimono).

I love him with all my heart and soul.