Goodbye Hiroki

To read while listening to “Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence”, from Ryuichi Sakamoto

It had been a long time since he visited his parent’s house. He didn’t expected or wished to be back again. Loving memories are perhaps more painful than frightful ones. And he had been so happy in that old country house, in the smallest village in the country.

The house was the last one in the road, going north. After it, only a dense wood carved by a tarmac road leading to the big city.

It was a hunter’s village, so noting was planted, grown or harvested in the village. Only sometimes small vegetables pots or plants and flowers to make the entry of the houses a bit prettier, like the pictures in the ladies magazine. Inevitably, the cold and dump air of the place, and the dark shadow of the mountain behind, would keep the vegetables, the plants and the villagers, dormant, with its entire living population, sleeping in a constant cold winter that lasted for months, only bearable under the blankets or close to the fire. And those were beautiful days, with his brothers and friends, who would come by the house and would spend all afternoon in the floor of the living room, without any sense of time, expecting life to be like this forever.

He parked the car near the café, just next to the main hall, and decided to take a coffee before going to the house. It was only 3 kilometers far, but he really wanted to delay the arrival as much as he could find excuses to. There would not be any coffee perhaps in the house, he thought, that’s why it made more sense to take now one, before moving on. He would not impose his habits to the people who expect him and personally would really benefit from a strong hot coffee, before facing them.

A smell of clean and warm clothes, a rough and strong touch, small bare feet running on the wooded floor, red faces and frozen noses. Some smooth voices coming from the kitchen, voices of mother and her sisters, grandmother sleeping nearby, not aware that was already this century. Dreaming of grandfather and the war, a young girl swept away by that man that took her from her parent’s home and made her deliver 5 children, before dying.

Paid the coffee, instant coffee must say, of very bad quality. One hour had passed, and could not find any more reason to be in that small, dark and dirty place. It was in fact a small store that sells essentials for the residents and for the lost traveler.

Was he a traveler, a visitor, a lost soul? Coming back to the village, just to realize that the past does not exist anymore was not acceptable to him. When we are not there, we think that everything continues the same. The time continues as usual, and people we know keep living as they always did. With the same age, the same habits, the same routines. Wake up, prepare breakfast, feed the young ones, prepare them to school, role the scarf and the jacket to protect from the cold, wake up grandmother and give her sweeten tea, follow father to the door and wish him a good day in the forest, clean the house, take care of the clothes, eat something with aunts, warm the children’s face that are cover in snow, prepare dinner, help father clean and rub his joints, love him during the night and dream of being in his arms for a long time. More time than the other one, who she meet once.

The village still keeps the same traditional houses, with the same doors and windows, pleasing the tourists who looked in the map, for the smallest and remote village in the country. Eventually a few ended up here, looking for something that can only find in the books or in the cinema, not in a real village, where people are just doing their business in a very bored way. There are no exciting stories, just common families with many children running around.

He still regrets answering the phone that day. He didn’t recognize the number and he usually would reject any unknown call. He was very meticulous with contacts. With time, he became a hermit, as Hiroki liked to call him. He was just organized with his time, would reply to the boy. But I would never refuse a call from you, Hiroki.

Sunday morning, and passed by the school ward. A kiss in the back of the building, a hand in the leg, a promise of future that was just next month, tears that mixed with rain and cold, feeling for the first time.

A few meters and would straight and would be in his house. Mud covered the road at this point. The white car was a mess, but he was far more worried with the letter shoes. Hiroki would laugh at him, and show him his snickers and tell him to be more practical. He was going to the country side, dressed as a dandy. He would never dare to be back home without his best clothes. Everyone would be there.

He parked the very dirty car in the opposite side of the road, next to the old rock. He had carved his name and his brothers names there. Although cover with natural matter, could still feel with his fingers, the lines, rounded by time.

The gate of the house was suddenly open by a young woman. Red skirt up to the knee, turtle neck gray shirt, black thick hair shoulder size, deep black eyes and a narrow mouth. He knew he wanted to sleep with her as soon as he saw her. Was an old fox with a bad temper, Hiroki.

Crossed the street and felt the smell of hot buns in the oven. Had started to rain a while ago, small drops in his face and in her hair.

The house front entry was simple. The strong winds would damage the panels if not taken care of. Father would prepare during summer for the rough winds coming soon. And all children would help, mostly run around and make sure father would not get lonely during that time. Children would not understand that would take him the double of the time with this disturbance. But his face was always calm, a smile in his lips, eyes laughing of his children troubles and bubbling songs from old times. He would write many songs about those moments, about the smell of the wood and his father dark skin, tainted by the rare sun.

The woman invited him in. He took his shoes off and cross the door for the first time in decades. The house was dark and a sense of humidity invaded his nostrils. The woman was now behind him and unexpectedly holds his hand. Her hand was small. He could easy cover all her hand with his fingers and crush it. But he let her slowly take him cross the room to the kamidana.

Grandmother spent most of her awaken time preparing the altar. The neighbors would appreciate her care and would remark what a devoted wife she was, widow since her twenties. She would laugh to herself and point one by one all of her daughters. Her husband was a warrior. The daughters had all given birth to males, and what a considerable number of sons the family had created. Grandmother would laugh again to herself  and say she has done it well.

In the room the woman sat on the floor and invited him to join. He touch her leg has an excuse not to fall, but in fact wanted to feel the skin. She was not wearing socks. Together they honored the past. The phone call was a surprised. Please come.

Hiroki I really wanted to wait for you, but there was no time, they would not wait. And I really want to see them again. All the boys, father, mother and grandmother. I think even grandfather will be there.

He felt the smell of dinner ready. She invited him to eat together and after they should go to sleep. There would be much work to be done in the house in the morning.

Goodbye Hiroki my son.  

(sorry not english speaker, but had much fun trying)