Red Room Where the Writers Are

DSCN3305.JPG

I made a visit to my mother yesterday.  The photo is the road to where she rests.  She died on October 1^st, 1996.  My image of that day is a tall building with vertical banners hanging from the top. 

That evening, I was talking with one of her ocha students on phone.  I heard beeps in the middle of our conversation.  I knew it was from her hospital.  I told the caller that she probably passed away, please let other students know.  I ran into the street, but a taxi didn’t come by.  I ran toward Kamioooka station.  I kept running, but couldn’t spot even one taxi either way.  I ran for four bus stops, and a taxi at last arrived.  I got in and looked up.  The new ten-story building was covered with vertical banners.  October 1^st was the Keikyu Department Store’s grand opening.  Looking at the banners, I thought she could enjoy shopping there if she lived.  We could go together and dine and argue more. 

Those banners later made a connection in my mind to ban.  Ban was connected to the frame of scrolls.  My mother loved scrolls.  She was knowledgeable about them.  Scrolls are the most important property among all the ocha utensils.  I didn’t learn ocha according to her standard, but going to museums is one of my habits.  And I’m interested in anything ocha although anything ocha means everything.

When she died, I decided to write about her and finish her book within ten years.  She wasn’t just my mother.  She was a great artist.  She was the most stimulating person I have ever met in my life.  I miss our fights.  Yesterday was the anniversary of her death, and it has been more than ten years.