A Little Bit of Spring

Today is a warm, beautiful day.
The slushy snow is gone, and I went for a walk with Grandma.

“Grandma, what is this?”

Under the tree in the garden, there are lots of little green buns.
If you look closely, they look like the shape of my hand.

Flowers are blooming, little green ones, still holding their hands tight.

With Grandma's wrinkled hands

snap, snap

she gently laid them to rest inside a colander.

Grandma's hands are moving.
Chop, chop, slice, slice, the pot is bubbling away.

Mom is next to her, sizzling away, making chicken tempura.

Grandma says she's mixing them into miso next,
and it turns into a mysterious yellowish-green miso.

It's a different color from the miso we have at home.

I tried to copy her, spreading some on my rice. When I took a bite,

Bitter!

When I made a funny face, Grandma said with a smile,

“That is the scent of spring.”

Dad said while eating the crispy tempura,

“The taste of adulthood is something children don't understand.”

I felt just a little bit frustrated.

However, Grandma was looking at me with such a happy expression on her face.

When I saw Grandma's gentle face,
just a little... just a little
the scent of spring reached me too.