Grandmother

This spring, giving the exaggerated reason of a sudden desire to see the cherry blossoms, I made my first visit home in the company of my husband.        We'd been married a year and a half, but had never made a trip home together. Naturally that meant that I'd be introducing my husband to my family and relatives for the first time, so the most important chore of this visit would be making the rounds of the relatives.        My grandmother is still living in the town in Niigata where I was born. I lived here until I was five.        Since I was her first grandchild, she really looked after me carefully, and I remember being taught about butterflies and flowers. This was my golden age, and I naturally became very fond of her.        My grandfather died early, but my grandmother is still healthy in her 90s. I decided to visit her in Niigata with my husband and to combine the trip with a visit to my grandfather's grave.        The cherry blossoms I had been looking forward to had all scattered in Tokyo, but in Niigata in the north country the buds were still closed. Exposed to the cold north wind, I found myself instinctively wrapping my coat tighter around me.        For the last few years, my grandmother has been in an old persons' home with complete nursing facilities. Her legs are feeble, so she uses a wheelchair, but her complexion is good and she seems the picture of health - though a little senile.        "You've come a long way."         It was our first meeting since I went to Italy six years ago. Her smile was the same gentle smile as in the old days.        "Grandma, this is the man I've married."        "Well, so you've married a foreigner. That's nice."        I felt tears coming to my eyes in my joy at finally having been able to tell my grandmother in person about my marriage.        "Careful!" I thought, but, looking around, I found that my husband's eyes were also suspiciously moist.        "Is this place interesting for someone who's come from overseas?"        Quite pleased with everything, my grandmother showed us into her room. She shared it with some other old women, and it was rather a plain room; all she had was her bed and a chest of drawers with her personal possessions in it.        "Since you've come all this way, have a look at a Japanese chest of drawers."        My grandmother had been a primary-school teacher. She hadn't lost her habit of instructing others or perhaps she really thought the chest of drawers would interest my husband. She was so keen to show him he went along with her, though looking a little embarrassed. They communicated really well though they had no common language.        Suddenly she pulled out several postcards she'd carefully put away underneath her underwear.        "Look at all the postcards from overseas I've got. Unusual, eh?"        They were ones I'd sent to her in free moments on my instruction tours.        "You can learn from everything, so have a good look," she said proudly.         She didn't seem to make the connection that the grandchild who had sent them was standing in front of her.        I had mixed feelings: pleasure that she placed such value on the postcards I sent her and shock at her advancing senility.        "This is from Yuki. And this one's from Yuki, too. Understand?"        I looked down, unable to say a word, so my husband made a valiant effort in his broken Japanese to explain to her. There was little chance of her understanding him, but I was grateful for his efforts.        "Do you know go? It's supposed to be good for preventing senility. My granddaughter . . ."        Was she listening? Could she hear? My grandmother chattering away, myself frozen, my husband talking excitedly . . . we were like actors in three unrelated dramas.        "Come again. I'll be waiting for you,"        said my grandmother in a lonely-sounding voice as we waved goodbye to her. In my heart, I prayed for her.        The journey, in my husband's words, 'to get to know Japan' finished safely, and now he's a fan not only of Japanese food but also of the Japanese people.        And now I've got back to something I'd almost forgotten about: go. ('Monthly Go World', June 2002. Translated by John Power.)