Grandpa's Palms

"That lunch bag is cute,"
a senior colleague at work said to me, and I replied,
"My grandpa made it for me!"

"What! Not your grandma?!
Your grandpa does sewing?!" they ask, surprised every time, but
my grandpa is skilled at making things.

When I look back at the things around me and my daily life,
I realize that I am surrounded by things my grandpa made by hand.

"Yakiniku Macchan," born from Grandpa's desire to create a place where everyone can gather

At the entrance, there is a red lantern with "Macchan" written on it. Once inside, there is a wood-carved plate on the wall that says "By Reservation Only." Chairs are arranged in a U-shape around a charcoal grill in the center. This place is my grandpa's handmade yakiniku hut.

At Yakiniku Macchan, "Yakiniku Parties" where we invite family, relatives, and close neighbors to eat yakiniku together have become a regular event in our home.

The food at Yakiniku Macchan is also the best. Fresh vegetables grown in the garden taste amazing when grilled over charcoal, as the sweetness of the vegetables is enhanced, and the perfectly round salt rice balls made by Grandma sell out in an instant.
With just the right amount of salt, we enjoy them in our own favorite ways—grilled, dipped in leftover yakiniku sauce, or even holding a rice ball championship to see who can eat them most deliciously. (Though just as they are is the most delicious.)

"I want to create a place where everyone can gather. I want to bring joy to everyone."

He told me the thoughts behind building the yakiniku hut.
The wood-carved "By Reservation Only" plate, the "Macchan" lantern, and the unique ideas that feel like playing restaurant—I felt that these were all physical expressions of Grandpa's desire for everyone to have a good time.

The yakiniku hut, which was built before I was even born, was created out of Grandpa's desire to build memories with everyone.
Knowing that it is a place where that wish is actually coming true, the yakiniku I eat at Yakiniku Macchan tastes better than any high-end yakiniku, and it fills me with a sense of happiness as I savor the time spent with everyone.

The "Owl Amulet" that always watches over and helps me

In the summer of my fourth year of university,
with the national exams for nurses and public health nurses
and job interviews approaching,
I received a letter from Grandpa.
Inside the envelope was a letter and a handmade wooden owl carving. When I opened the folded stationery, it said, "You asked for an exam amulet, but I don't have much time now and it won't dry in time, so I am sending you an owl I made last year. This is the owl I like best, and I believe it will protect you, Shi-no."

I read the letter and hold the owl in my hand.
I remembered the back of Grandpa's figure as he worked silently on his crafts when I was a child, and my chest felt tight with emotion. During the national exams, I kept it in my pocket and chanted "It will be okay" over and over. Even after I started working, whenever I had my first presentation or gave a lecture, I kept it with me.

Whenever I pray for success, I have always carried Grandpa's owl as an amulet. When I feel nervous or anxious, I hold the owl tightly in my hand and whisper that it will be okay—a little magic spell. I have been encouraged time and time again by the great love poured into that small owl.

Thoughts conveyed through the palms of the hands

There is something about things made by human hands
that strongly attracts us.

The same goes for home-cooked meals and handwritten letters. Why are handmade things so delightful? Why do they convey feelings so well?

I asked Grandpa, who has made so many things by hand, about this.

"As the word 'tanagokoro' (palms of the hands) suggests, hands convey the heart. I think that because the feelings put into them are expressed in a physical form, they reach the other person and bring them joy," he told me.

When I looked up the word "tanagokoro",
I found that "tanagokoro" means "palm of the hand."

It is a word that evolved from the pronunciation of "te no kokoro" (heart of the hand),
meaning the center of the hand.
Written in kanji, it is "掌" (palm).

Rice held in a palm, a letter written with a pen held in a palm,
a wood carving made with a chisel held in a palm.

I realized that the heart is conveyed through the palm.

The feelings infused into something you realize by making it

Last summer, I asked my grandpa if I could try wood carving with him.
It was because I wanted to cherish the time spent with him and because I wanted to connect with those feelings.

He taught me from the very beginning, starting with how to choose the wood, and I struggled with deciding which one to pick based on its hardness and thickness.

The wood my grandpa uses for carving is classified as coniferous; it gets hard when it's cold and soft when it's warm. That's why it's better to carve when the wood is soft, as you're less likely to get hurt. Hearing that, I was thrilled to realize that even a broken tree branch is a living thing!

The rough texture of the bark, the calming scent of the wood I could smell, the aroma of mosquito coils, and the sound of neighborhood children playing in the distance—it was all so comforting.

Even though it looked like he was doing it easily and smoothly, shaving the bark was much harder than I had imagined, and I was a little scared I might cut my finger with the knife. Sometimes there were soft spots, and if I used the same amount of pressure as I did on the hard parts, I would shave off too much. I shaved carefully while adjusting the pressure. I was so focused that I didn't realize four hours had passed in the blink of an eye.

It should have been just a straight piece of wood, but as I shaved it little by little, it took the shape of an owl, and I felt as if my own feelings were being imprinted into the wood.

I poured my feelings for my grandpa into the owl: gratitude for all the love he has given me, the wish that he stays healthy for a long time to come, and the hope that we can continue to do fun things together,wanting to see his happy face.

When I finally drew in the eyes with a permanent marker,
I felt like I was breathing new life into the wood, a feeling I had never experienced before—a mix of joy and nervousness.

The bright orange, cute, and rounded owl that my grandpa made.

The dark-colored,
poorly balanced owl that I made.

When we compared the two finished owls, the difference was so great that my grandpa, my grandma, and I all laughed together, and it warmed our hearts.

"When I made an owl as a charm for you, Shino, I didn't think it was anything special, but I was happy to hear that you carried it with you everywhere—to your entrance exams and even to your company presentations. If it makes you that happy and can be of help, then I wanted to make it to support you. I make them because I'm happy to see you happy,because I want to see your happy face."

I was moved to realize that I had been making my owl with the same feeling—that I wanted to see his happy face.

While listening to my grandpa's feelings that I hadn't known before, the time we spent silently working together resulted in an owl filled with irreplaceable emotions.

The dream Grandpa had always been painting

July 15th of this year, Grandpa's 74th birthday. I called Grandpa and suddenly asked him about his dream.

"Since I was born and raised, to have a family and live a happy life through my own efforts."

Grandpa, your dream has come true. I am so happy that I could spend time as part of that same family in your happy life.

Thank you for teaching me the warmth of caring for someone.

I realized that the owl, a symbol of a guardian deity, was a physical manifestation of your gentle love and desire to protect your family.

I will cherish it forever,
thank you for everything.

#WordProject #WordProject2019 #Essay #MyWonderfulPerson