Aiko with Grandpa and Grandma ()
Grandpa and I used to visit a shrine next to his apartment to celebrate New Year. And the highlight for me was “Oshiruko” served by the shrine.
Every year after Christmas, Mom and I packed her car with hamsters and a cat to go to her parents’ home in Kodaira in Tokyo. On the way, the hamsters ran on their toy wheel as if they were the ones who were the driving force of the car. The cat either sat on my lap to see views from the window or took a nap under the driver’s seat. While our pets were well-behaved, I, an only child, would talk the whole way, not fully understanding that my Mom was busy trying to navigate one of the busiest roadways in Tokyo.
Our drive took us over a big bridge crossing two rivers between Saitama and Tokyo, then into the lovely tree-covered Tamagaway-jyousui. As we approached Kodaira, my Mom’s cellphone would ring and I’d answer to get my grandpa’s McDonald’s order we’d pick up near in his neighborhood.
Once we arrived, Grandpa was waiting at the parking lot and he helped us carry the hamster cage, cat crate, gourmet food Mom got as souvenirs for her parents, my backpack full of raisin cookies Grandpa and I always shared, and bags of McDonald’s. Grandma would wave happily and proudly from the balcony. When I got to the door, she greeted me like we hadn’t seen each other in long time, even though we saw each other almost every month: “Wow, Ai-chan, you grew taller!”
We then let our hamsters and cat out to run around their hallways, while we enjoyed our hamburgers and French fries.
After the fast-food lunch, Grandma hurried to cook platters of food for New Year called Osechi while Mom took a nap, feeling secure back in her parents’ home. Grandpa and I then began plotting for our night out on New Year’s Eve.
“Hey, wanna go to a shrine over there on New Year’s Eve?”
Every year, Grandpa asked me this question, but I never grew tired of it. Every time he asked my eyes would shine and I’d say: “Yes!!”
As we snacked on raising cookies, we’d conspire on our attire, including a ski jacket and knit hat for each of us so we wouldn’t freeze standing in line at the shrine. We plotted how much money to bring – a few 10-yen coins to throw at the shrine for good luck. We plotted what to eat – Oshiruko distributed for free at the shrine.
Then, when New Year’s Eve finally arrived, Grandpa and I rehearsed how to dress. We looked at each other in front of his closet and debated whether we looked warm enough. We then checked out each other’s coin cases to make sure we were not going to make the shrine too much with our 10-yen coins.
That night at 11:45 p.m., we’d dress as rehearsed and said good-bye for the year to Grandma and Mom in pajamas. Then, we’d head out in the darkest streets I’d ever seen towards the shrine in the freezing cold. I also stormed him with questions.
“Will there be a lot of people?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Will there be enough Oshiruko?”
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
“How much will we throw at the shrine?”
“One ten-yen coin would do.”
In that 5-minute walk to the shrine, my grandpa would let me feel what a holiday with a father would feel like.
At the shrine, there’d be a long line of people waiting for Oshiruko and to make a New Year’s wish to the god enshrined. And Grandpa said, “Hey Aiko, wait here in the line. I’ll go get Oshiruko.”
He then walked up to the front of the line, told the server that his young granddaughter was waiting at the end of the line. He successfully obtained and brought back two bowls of Oshiruko – a tenderly boiled mochi and azuki beans floating in sweet fondu. He was father enough to mind that I wouldn’t freeze while waiting for Oshiruko in the long line, but he was friend enough not to preach how I eat it.
He was no longer concerned about whether his granddaughter safely eats the mochi, a big, sticky substance made of rice but looks just like a big piece of Mozzarella cheese. He focused on eating his bowl of Oshiruko without looking at me, enjoying the dessert Grandma often warned him of as one of the sources of his obesity. Looking at how he consumed mochi, I mimicked the size of each bite so that I wouldn’t choke on it. By the time we reached the front of the line, we were already full and warm. We then threw each of our ten-yen coins, made wishes, and quietly discussed whether we were too cheap to throw only ten-yen coins after being served such nice bowls of Oshiruko. We decided to throw a couple of 50 and 100-yen coins.
As we walked back, I asked him to take me to the shrine again next year, and he promised to do so. When we got home, Mom was already deep asleep, and Grandma quietly opened the door. Grandma told us not to wake Mom. Looking back now, I wonder if Grandma and Mom had a quality mother-and-daughter talk while we were having a quality grandfather-and-granddaughter night out. But one sure thing is, I was quite lucky to have two mothers in our family to let me borrow the only father in our family during one of the most precious hours of each year, to let me know what it’s like to spend a holiday with a father.
