Summer Haikus – Chapter 6

I double-check my makeup in the mirror, making certain my eyes are no longer puffy and red. They’re fine. Check. I run down the list of items I want to talk about for this lesson in my notebook. Intro, check. History, check. Words, check. My finger glides down the paper, the fine paper of the blank journal Masa gifted to me when he gave me the purple pen. A flash of our kiss the night before, his hands in my hair, his lips on mine, my heart beating faster than my hardest run ever, brings me to a standstill. I press my eyes closed at the memory of his tongue and mine and inhale sharply to stop my body from responding. It’s only a dream.

I turn on my desk light, sit in front of my MacBook, and count to ten before hitting the record button. The little green light next to the camera comes on, and I wait a full second before smiling.

“Hey everyone, Isa here again with today’s lesson on Japan and Japanese language: Mother’s Day. Hi, Mom.”

I wave at the camera and really hope she sees this soon.

“In Japan, this day is known as Haha no Hi.” I hold up a white piece of poster board where I have written 母の日（ははのひ）with my big, fat Sharpie marker. I always enjoy making these boards, drawing the kanji and hiragana correctly and adding in decorations. I’m pretty good at drawing Hello Kitty, foxes, owls, dogs, cats, and mice. Back when I started these videos, I thought that I would just pop text onto the screen, but that was always more trouble than it was worth. I was lamenting to Masa about how long it takes to put up all the text, and his answer was to show me a soccer highlights show where the guys just held up poster boards with stuff written on them. Genius.

“Haha no Hi is a special day in Japan, just like it is in the US. Moms can consider it a day of rest. We give our moms carnations and usually make them breakfast. My own mother would take the day to go get a massage, and we’d all eat dinner together. She would call her mom in Japan and they would talk for the evening. For some reason, eggs are really big on this day in Japan.”

I hold up the next poster board, on which I’ve drawn a happy egg and the word tamago 卵（たまご）.

“Tamago. Maybe today would be a good day to make your mom eggs for breakfast, or if you’re going out for sushi, tamago sushi is good too. The word for carnations is kānēshon and is a borrowed word, so it’s written in katakana.”

My board for carnations has a fluffy flower and カーネーション written on it.

“I’ll admit that there’s a lot to love about this holiday, and I’m sure it’s something I’ll love even more when I’m a mother someday.”

I halt, aware that I’ve just said aloud something I’ve often thought but never really believed — that I’ll find somebody to love who will love me back. I’m not a big fan of kids, but I do want my own someday, instead of babysitting everyone else’s. I gasp when I realize I’m silent, imagining my future spiraling away into spinsterhood with twenty cats and Masa spending his life with someone else. I knock my computer as I reach out to pause the recording. Staring down at the floor, I tap my feet back and forth and take deep breaths. I’ll have to edit out my pause.

Where did I leave off? Carnations. I start recording again, shaking off the overwhelming pain of my own mistakes. Focus.

“On Mother’s Day in Japan, flower stands are overflowing with carnations, hoping to snag busy dads who forgot to buy them a day ahead of time. Cards are not popular in Japan for this day, so just concentrate on the flowers, the relaxing time for Mom, and possibly an egg breakfast.

“Mother’s Day started in Japan in 1931 to celebrate Empress Kojun’s birthday. It was celebrated in March to coincide with that but then was switched to May in 1949 to sync up with the US. So it doesn’t have a long history in Japan, but Mother’s Day is still well-loved, nonetheless.

“Okay, that’s all I have for today! I’m leaving MSU for my summer in Japan, and I hope to record more lessons for you. I have a few planned, and I also want to show you the Olympics as well. Stay tuned and be sure to click on the subscribe button under this video so you don’t miss them.”

I point downward and smile before popping up a peace sign.

“Mata ne! Isa, out.”

I stop recording and sit for a moment before clicking play and watching myself again. I’m getting better at these videos. In the beginning, I did nothing but stammer and trip over my words. Much like everything in my life, I realized that I needed a game plan for every video, and I had to do them consistently in order to keep the rhythm the same each time.

I text Halley that I’m done, bring my video into iMovie, slap the intro on the front, then scrub through and cut out all the parts where I pause for too long. I add in the final end credits and publish to YouTube.

While I’m waiting for it to upload, I throw the rest of my desk materials in a box, and the door opens, Halley pushing it wide with her hip, a large box of pizza in her arms.

“All done?” she asks.

“Yep. I’m uploading now.” I check the status, and once it’s done processing, Halley sits down to watch it.

“That’s great!” she says, clapping her hands. “‘Haha’ is mother?”

I shake my head. “Only your own mother. You can call someone else’s mother O-kāsan. I probably should have mentioned it.”

Halley waves her hand at me. “Don’t bother. Save it for a later lesson. Ready to eat?”

“Just a minute.” I touch her shoulder and pull the wrapped present I’ve been saving for today from one of the boxes on my desk. “This is for you.”

Her brown eyes widen, and she pushes the present back to me.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

“Please,” I say, shoving it back into her hands. “I just want to say how proud I am of you.” My face blushes. I’m not used to being so outright with my feelings. “You’ve done amazing work this past year, between the training and your classes. You’re so ready for Tokyo.”

Halley peels off the pink dotted wrapping paper and smiles. “Oh thank god! I didn’t know which ones I would need!” She flips over and reads the backs of the two books I bought for her: a beginner’s Japanese dictionary and a Tokyo travel guide.

“You’ve already learned a lot of Japanese this year. You should be set.”

“Arigatō gozaimasu,” she says, bowing to me.

I throw my arms around her and squeeze her. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You already said that, Isa. Chill.” She squeezes me back and whispers, “Thank you.”

We each eat two slices of pizza when my computer pings twice with notifications of new comments on my video. Already? No one watches my channel that religiously.

I hold my pizza in one hand and click the notification with the other.

One comment is from my mom, “Thank you! Can’t wait to see you soon. Xo.”

The other…

—-

“Beautiful mother

Her daughter on video — 

Happy Mother’s Day.”

—-

Signed HaikusFromMasa. Maybe this means I’m forgiven?

Giddiness turns to confusion as my phone buzzes, a text alert on the screen from the man himself.

“I loved your Mother’s Day video. Don’t say you’re sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Let’s just forget it ever happened. Talk to you later when I’m home.”

Forget it ever happened? How am I supposed to do that? This already feels hopeless. There’s no way either of us is going to forget last night. I turn off my phone and glance at the computer screen.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Halley leans over my shoulder, her eyes scanning my computer screen, and shakes her head. “Why can’t he just say he’s sorry?”

“Because I’m the one who’s sorry.” I click on the thumbs-up next to his comment and close my computer.