[Puku of the Kankodori General Store] A box of flower ohagi from Hattori Sugar Refinery for the farewell party table

The afternoon light streams thinly into the back of the shop.

The wind brushes against the corner of the shelf,
and the opening of a paper bag rustles.

Today, too, nothing happens in the shop, surprisingly.
That is the one thing that really continues well.

Today is a small farewell party for a neighbor.

I wiped the round table in the back.
Two teacups.
Two small plates.
And in the center, one box.

When I opened the wrapping, there were flower ohagi.

Peach pink.
Pale purple.
Soft yellow.

It was as if gentle colors had suddenly gathered in the back of the shop.

There is a faint, sweet scent of wasanbon sugar.
That alone makes the usual table look a little more special.

The chair by the window is empty.

Instead, Puku was on the table.
Right next to the box of ohagi.
With front paws together, looking as if this had been his seat from the start.

Even though he usually just watches outside the shop from the window, for some reason today he is on this side.
Neither seeing someone off nor being seen off, just being in the middle—I thought that was just like Puku.

Before long, the doorbell rings, and a neighbor walks in.

The same laugh as always.
Their steps are just a little bit slower than usual.

Without being able to find the right words to say, like 'It's a farewell party today' or 'It's going to be lonely,' I offered them a chair.

The sound of a chair being pulled out.
Steam rising from a teacup.
Between us as we sit facing each other, Puku.
And next to it, the flower ohagi.

I place one on a plate.
I place another on a plate.

A voice says, 'How beautiful.'

I answer, 'Yes,' and then we talk about packing,
about the supermarket near the new house,
and about running out of cardboard boxes.

The things we talked about were, unexpectedly, just the same things as always.

Perhaps it would have been better if I could have said something clever, fitting for a farewell party.
But those kinds of words never made it past the steam, not even until the end.

Instead, our usual conversation flowed just a little bit slower than usual.

For a small farewell party like this, perhaps this level of sweetness is just right.
It is not too extravagant, yet it is sweet enough to leave a lasting impression on the heart.

Puku stayed on the table the whole time.

Bringing its nose close to the box and taking a sniff,
it sits back down with a face that makes it hard to tell if it's interested or not.

Then, with a look as if it isn't really listening to what we're saying, it narrows its eyes.

Even in the middle of a farewell party, this cat is just as it always is.
I am a little comforted by that usual self.

The sweetness of the wasanbon is gentle, not as forward as it looks,
and after it dissolved in my mouth, it remained there quietly for a while.

The petals on the plate disappear one by one.
The rim of the teacup cools down little by little.
Outside the window, it is slowly turning into evening.

When it was time to go, there was the sound of the box closing.

A voice saying thank you.
A voice saying the pleasure was mine.

A bow.
A small wave.
The door opens, a bit of the outside wind comes in, and then it closes again.

Returning to the inside of the shop, it seems the same as before, yet one thing is slightly different.

The sound of a paper bag.
The shadow of a shelf.
Puku on the table.

Puku is still there.
As if nothing had happened, it is narrowing its eyes.

Only the seat by the window
remained empty and alone.

← Previous Table of Contents Next →

▶ The Shopkeeper's Everyday Closet

#Essay #Cat #LifeWithCats #Lifestyle #HattoriSugarRefinery #Present #Gift
#WasanbonOhagi #FlowerOhagi #PukuOfKankodoriZakkaTen