“The faraway sky, sun flickering high over the green rice paddies.”
In a small voice, I try saying the haiku that comes to mind, making a conscious effort at it.
Through the balcony window, I can see blue sky and white, puffy clouds. I can’t see the green rice paddies in question, since it’s blocked by Building No. 4 across the street, but I think it is a nice touch to represent them on this day, framed by those giant clouds.
Today is July 20, a Saturday, and my last summer vacation of high school is underway.
My room—here in this apartment, complete with a just-sort-of-working air conditioner—is a little muggy from the heat outside. The notes scribbled with haiku ideas that I’ve posted on the wall, along with the back issues of Haiku Monthly that line my bookshelf, look like they’re all sagging—struggling in the high temperatures. The only other thing there is a stack of cardboard boxes labeled ARAKAWA MOVING CENTER, standing out in their spot in front of the window.
My part-time shift begins at one PM today. I need to get out of here soon.
I put on my fanny pack—my current favorite—and grab my phone case off the desk. It’s a dual-tone wallet case I found over at Toy Box the other day; I bought it on impulse because the mint-and-vanilla color scheme spoke to me, somehow. The cool thing about this case is that it’s designed to hold a small book on the other side; it’s perfect for holding a saijiki.
There’s one other important item on my desk, too: noise-canceling wireless headphones. They never play anything, but I put them around my neck as usual. Giving a nod to my mother as she calls, “See you later!” from the dining room, I leave my sweltering bedroom.
After passing through the apartment complex, I come across the main road that cuts through my local neighborhood—something pretty characteristic to suburbs like this one. Farther along the road, my view opens up to a wide field of rice paddies. I’m on the sidewalk, heat bouncing off the asphalt with no shade to speak of, and I’m walking toward the paddies as usual.
As I follow the ruts in the farm path, I start to hear the familiar sound of the irrigation canal. The paddies are all covered with lush green rice plants, the rustic smell of water and leaves growing thicker. For me, it’s an annual reminder that summer has well and truly arrived. Suddenly, I spot something at the base of the plants. Ripples spread all over the water, like it’s raining. But it isn’t.
“A water strider…”
I take my phone out of my pocket and open up the case. My phone is on the right side; on the left, my saijiki. I had never heard the term saijiki until I began writing. Basically, it’s a dictionary of seasonal words and their meanings. When you’re writing haiku, expressing the season is a must, so every poet from amateur hobbyist to published professional has one of these. There’s an app version for smartphones, of course, but I kind of feel like an analog book is easier for me to use. I borrowed this one from my dad, by the way.
So I flip to the index and look up water strider.
P. 215 Summer / Animals
Water Strider—water horse, river spider, water spider, purifier
Water strider strong, bobbing in the corner of the raging torrent
—Keiji Hashimoto
…Instantly, an idea strikes.
I promptly open my phone to launch the Curiosity app, quickly tapping away before pressing the POST button. I didn’t forget the “#haiku” hashtag, of course.
Cherry @ Haiku account
Ripples bequeathed by
water striders thrust across
the pallid surface
#haiku
“Cherry” is my nickname. Someone gave it to me because my last name happens to be Sakura, which means cherry blossom, and before I knew it, I was Cherry and that was that. By the time I started carrying a smartphone around in middle school, Curiosity—the short-message social network—was taking the world by storm. My timeline was always filled to the brim with posts sent by other users, and even now that I’m seventeen, the Curiosity boom is still going.
Looking at my timeline, I can’t help but think it all over again. Curiosity really does suit me. I don’t really like conversing and I’m definitely not very good at it, so I feel a lot more comfortable communicating via text alone.
In fact, I had my first encounter with haiku through Curiosity. I happened to see one from a famous poet on my timeline, and it felt so free—a lot more so than my imagination would ever allow. I’d always had an image of haiku as this antiquated culture, and even in my language-arts classes, it never really clicked with me. But when someone commented on Curiosity that haiku is “like capturing a moment in a photograph,” I managed to grasp it. For our generation, which is so accustomed to smartphone cameras, that comparison fits really well. And when I tried my hand at a few haiku, I was surprised by how easily it came to me. I’ve been submitting my work on Curiosity ever since.
My follower count at the moment is…four. The number of likes…negligible. Ah well. I’m doing this for my own satisfaction, so it’s all good.
I look up. In front of me, across from the paddies, is a large box-shaped building. This is where all the locals gather, and it’s where I’m headed right now—the Oda Nouvelle Mall, a huge shopping complex, part of a national chain you can find anywhere in Japan. I work a part-time job there at Sunnyside Day Service, and even though I’m on summer vacation, my daily life pretty much takes place inside this huge mall.
Ba-ding. A notification. What is it?
[Curiosity]
Maria ☆ liked your comment.
Right, yeah. There is one person who likes all my comments.
It’s my mom, but still…
After changing into my work clothes, I walk through the breezy, air-conditioned mall and head for the Central Court on the first floor. Sunnyside Day Service is connected to it.
Sunnyside is an elderly care center; senior citizens who aren’t decrepit enough to require an old folks’ home come here during the day to eat, relax in a bath, do exercises and training to retain their mobility, and so on. Last month I joined the part-time crew working with the seniors who come here, but really, I’m just supporting the full-timers more than anything.