Cherry Blossom Viewing: Sakura Hanami

Angel wrote in your journal: If the popping appearance of cherry blossoms into flower were music, you would wake up one day and hear bands and orchestras and choirs of angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus in rounds that harmonized and climaxed with crescendos that shoot through the air one after another, and another, and another. The arrival of the cherry

blossoms is always predicted, yet always a breath-taking surprise.

… The-Handsome-Man-Two-Desks-Down bowed out of the songfest however and moved to the other end of the tarps. He pillowed his head with his hands laced behind it and laid back on the tarp. The cherry blossoms twitted and flitted easily above him.

Angel watched him, and decided that she too, wanted to separate herself from the party atmosphere. She scooted away from her circle of colleagues and bent her knees, pulling her feet in close to her bottom. She placed her hands behind her and leaned back against the support of her arms. She looked up into the confetti sky and watched the delicate petals in all their stages—swirling, floating, and twittering about in the breeze. Ah, the breeze. It would be chilly if the sun weren’t shinning, but with the warm rays weaving through the Sakura branches, it was gentle and peaceful, like a feather being brushed across the cheek. Angel’s eyes followed one petal as it twitched its way near her. She stretched an arm

forward and held out her open palm to catch it; though the petal refused to be caught.

“Some of them are still clinging to the branches,” someone said. The voice came from behind her. Angel lookback and saw that it was The- Handsome-Man-Two-Desks-Down. He sat down beside her. Angel felt her heart jump into her throat.

“Eh? Oh. Oh, hello.” She sat up and crossed her legs. She cleared her throat and said again, “Hello.” Angel laid her hands in her lap and looked at them.

“We all do like that,” he said, ignoring Angel’s discomfort.

“Eh?”

“We cling to life.” He repeated. “But look at how delicate they are.” The-Handsome-Man-Two-Desks-Down pinched one random petal from the ground between his fingers and brought it close to Angel’s face. She took the petal and placed it in the palm of her hand. She studied it for a moment, looking for the base, or a stem, something that showed her

where it had been attached to the tree. There was a tiny point at the edge of the petal that was slightly darker in color, but there was nothing strong in there, nothing that would snap when it was set free. The darker pink was more like an aspiration that was absorbed into the softer pink of the petal.

“It’s so fragile,” she said to him.

“Exactly. That’s why we love them so much.”

Angel looked back up to the sky and observed the blossoms that quivered on the branches for a while. The noise on earth blurred to distant buzz in her ears. She imagined the invisible lines between sound and silence, knowing and not knowing, life and death.

“Sake?” he asked.

Angel smiled to the sky, then, only slightly, turned to look at him.

“Sure.”

ANGEL RETURNED HOME

just before dusk. She chose to soak in the outside pool again, still seeking solitude, knowing she still had too much to contemplate, and now, she also needed to let thoughts from her time with The-Handsome-Man-Two-Desks-Down settle as she reflected on her day. It had happened so easily, so comfortably, she thought. And he didn’t seem nervous. Angel was surprised that The-Handsome-Man-Two-Desks-Down had come to talk to her, and she was hopeful that perhaps she could develop a friendship with him after all.

Soon after she settled in the sulfur tub outside, Aki barged into her space. “Oh, I’m exhausted!” Aki exclaimed, rattling the door behind her.

“Un, me too,” Angel answered faintly, though she didn’t feel tired at all.

You went to the promenade near the castle today, didn’t you,” Aki said.

“Yes, it was nice.”

“It was appropriate,” Aki corrected.

“Appropriate?”

“Yes. You know the tradition of Hanami started with the Samurai, don’t you?

“Un. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s when it started.”

“I see.” Angel kept her eyes closed. She hoped her minimal responses would limit Aki’s chatter.

“That’s why doing the Hanami near the castle is the best place in thecity to be.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t know that. Anyway, it was nice.”

Aki sat on the rough stone edge and fidgeted around the wall. Hands patting the stones, turning to wriggle her bottom into a nice pocket, squirming, she finally wriggled her way into the pool. She found her preferred stone pillow and leaned back, settling into the water’s embrace. Soon Aki’s breath was matched with Angel’s, and for a few precious

moments, they gazed upward and settled inward.

The sky overhead was already darkening, but the horizon was a band of night pastels. It looked like an artist had painted each new color with too much water in the brush, and before each color had dried even a bit, because all the colors bled into the others, making lines invisible.

“It’s hard sometimes, to imagine Japan’s feudal history,” Aki began. “We became a people of peace after World War II. Truly. Not ideology, not rhetoric. But in our hearts. No, deeper than our hearts.”

The dark blue in the sky sucked at the colors, slowly infusing them with a subtle darkness, like the slow fading of lights on a stage at the end of a dramatic act.

“The life of the Samurai was full of danger,” Aki continued. “One day a man was a warrior, and by night fall, he could be dead.

“Ooh,” Angel said.”

“It’s different now, of course. I mean, generally our society is safe, but the fragility of life is a fact that goes far beyond the conditions of a culture. You see, even though it isn’t as clear as it was in the Samurai days, life is still full of danger. We should never forget that.”

“I suppose,” Angel said. She wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson just then. She just wanted to think about the unfolding events of the day and replay in her mind every movement and every word spoken by The- Handsome-Man-Two-Desks-Down as he sat by her side, there, under the cherry blossoms. Aki’s words hovered over the water. Angel let her speak, but she was detached.

“The cherry blossoms are tiny,” Aki continued. “They appear suddenly, and when they do, they change the world around them. But it’s only for a few days. Short days. The gentle winds make them dance, but if the winds are like strong gales, the little petals are whipped into a violent flurry. Either way, they separate from the trees, clutter about on the

ground, and then they get swept away into space, somewhere far away. And we never know where they really go.”

Angel lifted her head and looked at Aki. “But today the cherry blossoms were beautiful,” Angel said. “No strong winds, no violent flurry, just gentle winds and festive little cherry blossoms. It was a really nice day.”

“Yes, yes,” Aki said. “Today was perfect weather. A beautiful day, indeed.” Then she cupped some water in her hands and poured it over her head. She repeated the several times. As she wriggled herself back into the cubby space in the pool wall, she continued, “But now today is finished. Now today is a memory. You can’t ever live this day again.”

“Okay, okay!” Angel said, sitting up to look at Aki. “But why do you have to say that?” She felt like Aki was forcing her to let go of the events of the day and she didn’t want to do that. Aki’s presence in her space was starting to irritate her.

“Because I don’t think you understand,” Aki answered, voice now soft.

“Understand what?” Angel asked.

“The Samurai used to say the cherry blossoms were like drops of blood because of their color. And poets say the light color makes them like remnants of blood—like stains after the rains, like memories of sorrow after time starts to heal the heart.”

“Aki, I think this is depressing.”

“No, no. Clearly you don’t understand. This is the beauty! You see, life is fragile, just like the Sakura. And blood does leave stains. This truth makes our lives beautiful. We don’t realize this in these days when life is so easy and simple. But listen, Angel-san. Listen.” Now Aki was also sitting up and facing Angel. “Even in today’s times, everything we do, each day, it’s all

so precious.” She looked hard into Angel’s eyes. “It’s precious because it’s fragile.”

Angel returned the intensity of Aki’s gaze.

“Okay. Life is fragile. But I don’t want to know that right now. I don’t want to think about that. I’m still enjoying the beauty of this day. This day is still here,” Angel protested.

“Exactly,” Aki said. “The Hanami ritual helps us to remember that, Angel-san. But everything ends. And anything can end at any time. It’s not in our power to control it.”

Angel sighed and leaned back into her stone pillow. “I’m not trying to control anything,” she said.

Aki chuckled. “Japanese people are masters at controlling nature, you know. But Sakura reminds us of the limits of our power to control things.”

“Some of us like to control things more than others, right, Aki?” Angel was thinking that she certainly couldn’t control Aki.

“Oh, that’s very true,” Aki laughed. “Take Ei-san, Aki said. “She just flits about in the breeze like those little blossoms, doesn’t she? But you,” Aki continued. “You are one of the blossoms that clings hard to the branch.”

Angel didn’t like that last comment but chose not to respond. “Anyway, life is fleeting. And that’s my point,” Aki concluded. “Come on, let’s go in.”