Short Story: A Landscape of Sorrow

Every year, when plums start appearing in supermarkets, Mikako makes sure to pickle plum syrup. She layers plums and rock sugar alternately in a sterilized storage jar, then seals it with a lid. It is usually ready to drink in about two weeks. You can mix it with carbonated water or use it as syrup for shaved ice. When she told a younger girl at work about this,
“Senior, you really live a mindful life, don’t you?”
she was surprised. Mikako, who is always strong-willed, would usually be annoyed by this, but because she is aware that she is doing something uncharacteristic of herself when it comes to plum syrup, she simply replied to her junior's surprise with,
“It’s actually quite fun once you try it.”

She often made plum syrup with her late paternal grandmother when she was a child. At that time, her grandmother, with whom she lived, had a tiny garden the size of a cat's forehead, and there was a plum tree there. Since the fruit could be harvested during this rainy season, her grandmother would work hard at 'plum chores,' such as pickling umeboshi or making plum syrup. She would sneakily eat the rock sugar and get scolded by her grandmother. Warm memories would revive in Mikako's chest, making her heart feel soft.

Her grandmother passed away suddenly on a cold winter morning after her cold worsened. She had always been a frail person. Mikako remembers the sensation of her grandmother's cold hands. Her honest impression was that they had become quite small. Her memories of her grandmother cut off abruptly when Mikako was in the sixth grade of elementary school. Just as she was about to enter junior high, her father bought a house in the next town. The reason was that Mikako and her younger brother were growing up, and it was becoming too small for the six of them to live in. After entering junior high, Mikako was busy with studies and club activities and never visited her grandmother's house. Then, she graduated from university, entered the workforce, and got a job in Tokyo.

In the midst of such busy days, she suddenly received news of her grandmother's death. Mikako rushed to her grandmother's house without delay. The funeral was held quietly. Returning home from the crematorium, she suddenly noticed that there was nothing where the plum tree used to be. When she hurriedly asked her grandfather, he said,
“It was a lot of work to maintain, so I had a professional pull it out five years ago.”
Mikako thought that it was amazing how the absence of something that should be there could leave such a hole in one's heart. Grandmother, Grandmother. Mikako calls out in her heart. Why wasn't she by her side more? There were so many things she wanted to be taught. Even if she thinks that, it is already too late.
It is not that she thought simply that plum fruit would keep her connected to her grandmother, but every year at this time, Mikako pickles plum syrup. Come to think of it, since coming to Tokyo, Mikako has become overwhelmingly insensitive to the changing of the seasons. She works in an air-conditioned office as if wearing a Noh mask. She felt that the chirping of birds and the wind brushing against her cheeks had gone far away.

Time cannot be turned back no matter what. If she could return to her past self, she would have visited her grandmother's house often and chatted about this and that while watching TV. No, that would never happen. To an adolescent, her grandmother's way of life would have seemed quite plain and extremely boring. It would have been much more fun to be with her classmates. Only cliché words come to mind, but that is usually the case.

Sway, sway, sway, Mikako shakes the plum syrup every day. By doing this, she mixes the plums and sugar. Watching the color change day by day, Mikako thought. She wants to become a person who can properly say that important things are important someday. Making plum syrup is the first step toward that. That landscape where the plum tree was gone, leaving a void, touches her heart, but that is something that cannot be helped. Even if she laments the things that are being lost, she cannot move forward. Grandmother, I will surely become strong. Mikako whispered that in her heart.

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I am participating in the "Literary Award Written from the Title (Landscape of Sorrow)" hosted by Kaoru Hanazawa.

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