Over Taiyaki

By S. Adila

It was mid-summer. The sun proudly beamed its light to the endless canvas beneath. Big trees act as a voluntary canopy for my grandmother’s house, allowing only the soothing breeze to dance on my skin while letting the long, empty hallway bask in the harsh sunlight. I always loved this house. A Japanese traditional house that has been built for decades. It takes one to tilt their head back and reminisce about the history left behind by their ancestors. Situated in the middle of the open ground, surrounded by nature and other creatures alike; it’s almost magical.

Spending my entire summer with my grandmother has always been a frequent occurrence. Once, I had proposed my request to live with her and open a new trajectory to walk on but my parents blatantly refused. Something about being an unnecessary burden to grandma and leaving my career potential behind. I never bring it up again ever since then.

“Ryo-chan, I made some taiyaki. Let’s eat it together, yeah?” I cranked my neck upwards, seeing the slightly hunched figure of my grandmother by the sakura-pattern embellished shoji. A motherly smile on her lips, made her old skin crinkle with the minute gesture. She stepped forward, her socks shuffling against the bamboo-made floor. I instantly sat up, sitting cross-legged, mirroring her as I grinned.

“This looks amazing, grandma.” My dark orbs fell on the well-shaped taiyakis, nose twitching at the worth-salivating smell. Grandmother chuckled under her breath while pushing the plate closer toward my legs. “I made it for you. Eat well, yeah?” Indescribable warmth floods my veins causing me to shiver as my grins widen. The warmth was like the sunbeam mixed with the cool summer breeze, tingling my senses and leaving me content. Grandmother always knew how to keep my young soul caged in joy.

“Itadakimasu!.” The first bite was heavenly. The batter was the fluffiest thing I have ever bitten into, and the warm smell of butter and flour wafted in the humid air, marking their territory in my nostrils. The red bean was definitely fresh-made as my tongue recognised the scenery of the wet soil and the greenery view of my grandmother’s small garden behind the kitchen door. So sweet and creamy that, coated my taste buds with its protein and additional sugar. I gave grandma a thumbs up, showing my appreciation and admiration towards her cooking.

“Your father and I were the ones who planted the red bean, you know? Of course, it’s going to grow healthily.” The old woman spoke, a tender smile plastered on her face while she stared at the uneaten taiyaki in her hand. I gulped down the mouthful of taiyaki that I had been chewed on and chose to stay silent. I don’t call myself an observer but something behind those greyish orbs of her’s reflected a sense of longing and melancholy that resonated with me.

“Your father rarely comes home now. It’s nice that you like to stay here, Ryo-chan.” She turned her head towards her only grandchild, taking in the face of the 9-year-old boy who reminded her of her own son.

I averted my gaze, questioning the way my heart squeezed behind my ribcage. “Grandma misses papa?” The look that my grandmother displayed was enough of a thousand words, and yet I gave the old woman some time to articulate her thoughts.

“Utterly so. But, I know he has his own life now. I was only half-portion of his early life, the rest is all his.” Her greyish orbs seemed transparent under the soft glow of late-morning sunlight, replaying memories only she could see and remember.

“I’m not sad if that’s what you think, Ryo-chan.” She laughed, ruffling my dark strands lovingly. She could turn her melancholic gaze into genuine happiness in a second, it was impossible. Yet, I gave her a smile.

“What do you do if you miss him, grandma?” I was curious. There was only much a 9-year-old brain could comprehend, incomparable with the mid-seventies wise mind filled with life experiences. Falling into pits of life that were deeper than his short legs could reach.

“What do I do, huh… nothing really, I just live my life like usual.” She took her time chewing on the now lukewarm taiyaki in her hand while staring at the spectrums of green in front of us. The soothing summer breeze made her look one decade younger than her age, her face serene and loose of any trivial issues.

I tilted my head, confused. I felt like there was more to it, something intricate and complex woven beneath her old skin. She let out a soft huff, a small amused smile curved on her lips upon seeing the bewildered expression on her grandchild’s face. “Say, Ryo-chan, did you know that this house captures memories?”

“Like a camera?” I blurted out, interested. She nods, “Yes, like a camera.”

“How so, grandma?” The second taiyaki in my hand was left forgotten, I was curious about the story that she wanted to unfold.

“People’s minds tend to forget a lot of stuff. Trivial or not, we’re bound to forget one day. But, some things captured the memories for us. Reminding us about the forgotten. Like the rainbow after a heavy rain. It’s not every day we get to see the rainbow and sometimes we forget about the colour. But when it appears, even if it’s twice a year, all those times we ever see rainbows shall appear in our minds.” She exhaled, the fresh air of nature flooded her lungs after and she continued,

“I’m not sad even if I miss your father because his presence has always been here with me. Every corner and space of this house. And importantly, it was the moment where he’s the closest to me most.” Her smiles mirrored the sun above, radiant and steady. I instantly roamed my eyes around the room I was sitting in at the moment. Surely, it was just an empty space to me, but to her, the visage of my father’s young self was everywhere.

“So, it’s like he always lives with you.” I concluded, meeting her eyes. I caught the minuscule change of her eyes' size before it softened greatly. “You could say that.”

Our eyes met before we shared a good laugh. For a second, everything seemed to be orbiting slowly. Just me and my grandmother, smiling, and sharing a heartful plate of taiyaki.

“Grandma? Ryo will always be with you, okay?”

The old woman was stunned for a good moment before she smiled wide, pulling the boy closer to him before planting a soft kiss on top of his head. “Okay. With taiyaki too?”

I laughed, “With taiyaki too.”