Ritsurin Koen

By Megan 

I watch my grandmother water her plants. She cares for them daily as though they’re her children. On cool mornings, she tucks them in a bit tighter in their soil. On warm mornings, she douses them in a bit of extra water. A variety of plants and fruit trees are scattered in her garden. The red cherry blossoms stretch towards the sun, reaching for its light. The soft grass has a velvety texture, a sweet treat for my feet. The birds chirp and sing, elevating the garden to paradise. Grandma’s undeterred dedication to her garden lures me away from the house to the wonderful outside.

I, a little bundle full of great curiosity, approach Grandmother and ask, “Grandmother, why do you water the plants every day? Do you love them that much?”

Grandmother turns to me. Her bones creak with age. Her hands shake a little as she holds the watering can. She looks straight into my curious eyes with an all-knowing smile. Her mouth slowly opens. Little birds stir behind her in their nest. The soft breezes whistle. The green plants rustle. The water in the pond gurgles.

And, almost as if all the forces of nature want to hear her story, she speaks:

***

“It was late afternoon. The hot sun burned my pale skin. My black hair stuck to the back of my neck. My tears blurred my eyes and acted as a mirror, reflecting my earlier unfortunate circumstance. I remembered when I first entered the workplace: fiery, full of zeal, ready to take on the world. I earnestly looked at the cubicles and saw each person hard at work. Every day, I had put my best effort into piles of paperwork, long board meetings, and hours of overtime. I was the newcomer who had to prove herself, but I knew I would because I was the best worker. That was until a new man replaced my old boss.

That man was a force of nature: a hurricane, a thunderstorm, a tsunami. There was destruction wherever he went. He poured insults at the women, thundered at the men when they did something “wrong,” and terrorized the newbies with his new authority. His sneer could tear down the strongest men to their knees. I did everything I could to stay out of his way, to avoid his fury, but it was only like living in the eye of a hurricane. Inevitable.

I heard him before I saw him. The man stomped his grand Gucci shoes up to my cubicle.

Remembering what he did to my colleagues awakened something in me.

Something hot. Something fiery.

It budded in the pit of my stomach. As it slowly matured, its presence creeped its way into my veins, arteries, organs, and eventually my entire body. It released itself from me as a whole new entity, a blazing inferno. I rose from my chair. The flaming entity guided my hand. My boss’s sneer began to manifest, but before its completion, my hand made contact with his cheek.

One second passed. Then two. Three became ten. At the clock’s eleventh tick, I began to realize that this might have been a terrible mistake.

Holding his right cheek, he sneered like a stray bull dog and growled, ‘You’re fired.’

I stood there for several seconds. I felt remorse filling my chest, replacing the fire with fear. My hands packed my bag. My feet guided me to the door. I shivered when the cold air wrapped its fingers around my neck, almost freezing the tears that were starting to streak my face. The bitter gravity of my release weighed heavily on my shoulders. I looked up to the sky with dead eyes and thought, ‘Why did I do that?’

Nothing answered.

Silence.

Cold cold silence.

Like a living ghost, I aimlessly wandered and swayed along the streets.

The click and clack of my heels grew softer and softer.

***

My heels caught on a crevice in the pavement. I fell. Hard. The summer heat had been unrelenting, and the path was ablaze. The only fire I’ve felt since I slapped my boss, hours ago.

‘Where am I?’ I look up.

My vision focused. My eyes widened. Water. Clear sparkling water.

I reached out, desiring to touch the crystalline sparkle of water. Something splashed. I shot my hand back. Dozens of beautiful koi fish – black, white, orange, speckled – twirled in the lake as if they were dancers performing in the Russian Bolshoi Theatre. One leaped out of the water, drawing my eyes to the wondrous structures behind them. Japanese shrines and temples were scattered across the land. Their perfect rectangular roofs contrasted with the mess of green leaves behind them, but for the most part, they belonged together, like mountains against a cotton candy sunset. They demonstrated that humanity can in fact live harmoniously in nature, if it chooses to.

Suddenly, something bright red caught my attention. I turned away from the ornate temples and shrines to admire the scarlet cherry blossoms floating like little islands on the lake. A gentle breeze blew, taking several cherry blossoms with it. The cherry blossoms surrounded me in a tender dance, entrancing me with their fragrant beauty. The breeze and its cherry blossom friends led to the bridge, the center of it all. I tried to control myself, but I failed when I saw the scenery in front of me.

Families walked happily around. Children played innocently with their kites. The longer I looked at this scene, the more I forgot about my boss. Each gentle breeze carried cherry blossoms and green leaves, which also took a little of my memories of my dismissal.

Ba-bump. . . ‘What is that?’

Ba-bump. . . Ba-bump, Ba-bump.

I clutched my chest. My heart was racing. The garden had given me life. It collected the little scattered fragments I left behind and started to build a foundation for the future. A foundation of hope and happiness. A foundation of peace.

The garden soothed my heart.
I heard the birds, trees, and the garden gently whispering to me. I sighed. I breathed. I lived.

***

I breathed out and smoke emerged. My warm breath against the cold, wintry air makes me feel like a dragon – powerful and fiery, once again. The garden was cooler today, the foliage drenched in a blue-white tone. My breath clouded my vision as my boots sank into the deep snow.

The once-crystalline lake was now dull glass. Koi fish were nowhere to be seen. The snowy roofs blended into the snowy trees. Emptiness, and the quiet, engulfed me.

The icy-blue cherry blossom trees were frozen until Spring’s warm fingers revived them.

The gentle breeze was now a hard wind, crackling against my cheeks. This garden offered no gentle whispers, no comforting gesture.

I arrived at the bridge, hoping that it would recover the garden’s clarity. Instead, I received silence. Cold, chilly silence that dug its chilly fingernails into my shoulders, injecting my warm blood with cold solitude. I was alone.

Alone.

A tear forced itself from my right eye. It fell to the ground with a quiet plop.

Now, it was two tears. Three. Twenty.

Tears were cascading on my face, each bringing a cathartic release. In the warmth of the spring, I had cried for my past, for what I had lost. Now, my tears were a baptism for the new life that I was creating for myself. A life where I surrounded myself with growth and comfort rather than hindrance and cruelty. As I looked down at the snow, I saw the slightest hint of something red. I softly dig, my wool mittens dampening with each scoop of snow, to reveal a small, fragile cherry blossom.

‘A fighter,’ I thought to myself, smiling and wiping away the remnants of my tears.

I brought it up slowly to my face, and in that moment, I knew that I would not only survive, but I would thrive. I would create my own comfort through my own garden, my own peace through each blossom, and my own happiness through each green leaf. Ritsurin Koen has revived me once more.”

***

Grandmother’s story has left me speechless. Her story changed something in me. I look towards the red cherry blossoms, filled with sunlight. In my peripheral, I see the pile of dead weeds on the side. I hear the chirping birds. One carries a dead caterpillar to its chicks. I turn all around me, and I see vibrant colors and hear soothing sounds like never before. It’s almost as if I see the sounds and hear the colors for the first time. I’m enlivened.

Grandmother found renewal in the heart of Ritsurin Koen. I found a new respect for my Grandmother. For nature.

Grandmother sees the look on my face.

She smiles and says, “Yes, Tuti. I do love them that much. And I see you now know why.”

And in the calm of her garden, I take her hand and smile. 🌸