As I worked in the rain, chopping ice on our walkway (I discovered that if chop in a straight line, then crosshatch… the diamond cut ice lifts easier) the landlord walked by on the gravel driveway that loops toward his house. He was smoking and carrying a small bag of groceries.
I have noticed that lately he is making the grocery trips instead of his wife – who was walking to the store in the snow quite sturdily by herself when we first moved here. His wife is no longer driving. When he chauffeurs, he uses her car, which is much prettier and more comfortable than his black miniature van that he uses when he goes out by himself. He drives right up to their house so she doesn’t have to walk to her carport, which is on the other side of our house. He treats her very gently and with great care. It is so beautiful and so sad, it breaks my heart to watch. He walks has been more hunched than usual, with his head down, as though his heart is very heavy.
While shoveling, I saw some bright green flower buds poking up through the yukideoowareru ground, just on the edge of the retaining wall. They looked like they belonged to some species of daffodil or snow drop. Seeing them momentarily cheered up my winter blues.
My landlord is a farmer, and I know he loves flowers and all things growing. I smiled and said “konnichiwa” and motioned for him to come over. I leaned down and showed him the little buds.
He tugged at his navy blue coveralls and stooped over to get a closer look. Hundreds of lines on his leathery face contracted into one big crooked smile-wrinkle. The right corner of his mouth firmly gripped his cigarette.
“Kore wa nan desu ka?” I asked. He motioned they’d grow to be about a foot tall and tried to tell me the name of the flower – which I repeated, but neither understood nor properly pronounced. With a little wave of his hand, he gave up with trying to name the flower, and simply said, “hana,” which means flower. (I know this word from the word “hanami“, which means flower viewing, and refers to throwing a little party to observe the cherry blossoms.)
I truly hope that thoughts of spring in this dreary, wintry land will help brighten his day. I am working up the nerve to ask “Daijoubu desu ka?” but, I don’t want to offend him by letting him know that I can tell the honne from the tatemae. I want to tell him that I pray for him and his family all the time, and I am trying to think of a way to do this in a way that would be comforting and not embarrassing to him.
I wish I could just wrap my arms around him and hug him.
