• Little Sparrow

    He ran his fingers through his thick hair and stared are the brown package that lay on his desk. The small brown box had arrived from Tarumi, a small fishing village. It was strange – he thought - for he had no relations to the village. No ties connected him the mysterious place.
    Silently, he plodded through the room and took his hands out of the kimono sleeves to make some tea. Winter was around the corner – the ginkgo trees were bare and flecks of snow decorated the sturdy branches. Steadily but slowly, he poured himself a generous amount of the steaming tea into a dainty cup.
    The particular teacup was a gift from his late wife, who had passed away a year ago. It was ornamented with a red dragon, and the rim of the cup was lined with gold. He picked it up and carefully studied it. His almond shaped eyes were fixed on it; a tear rolled down his rosy cheek and glistened under the moonlight.
    The days turned short, the dark became overwhelming. Tired and emotionally distressed, he decided that it was time to resign to his comfortable and warm futon. The damp tatami mats felt refreshing under his toes and the light from the candle was dim. He quickly blew out the light and the smoke trailed off into the vast darkness of the quaint room.
    His eyes fluttered a little – he was fast asleep. In a matter of moments, he found himself on a beach. Traditional Japanese homes lined the coast, the sun felt warm and welcoming. He had the strangest feeling, as if he had been there before. Suddenly, a young female voice called out his name. He immediately recognized it.
    A beautiful young woman – his wife – was calling out to him. Her long jet black hair was pushed back by the light breeze, her face was rosy and her lips were the color of wine. He was dumbfounded, he instantly reached out for her, to caress her face and hold her in his arms. Everything seemed so distant though; she was almost translucent now – fading away.
    He dropped to his knees and broke out in a sob, he sounded like a wounded animal. As he lifted his eyes and looked at the spot where his beloved used to be, in her place was a silver hairpin. It was beautiful; a small sparrow was attached to the edge. A grin crept at the corner of his lips. “Sparrow” he thought, that was the nickname he gave her because she was so frail and small.
    The alarm rang annoyingly loud, and he slowly rose to his feet. After a long, chilly night, the tatami mats grew cold and unpleasant. Even so, he was going to get ready for his dull routine. The silky kimono embraced his tender skin and the fuzzy slippers comforted his numb feet.
    Green tea soothed his throat and onigiri filled his stomach. As he was resting on his legs, he remembered that he had yet to open the peculiar package. Full with curiosity, he opened the brown box as if he were a child on his birthday. Inside, rested a silver hairpin with a sparrow attached to the edge, accompanied by a note. His eyes started to tear up when he read-

    “I’ll always be your little sparrow”