Ama gathers the light

Ama sits on the bamboo floor and watches warm, orange-pinkish shafts of fading light flooding into Miko’s workshop. Little girl is thoughtful, but at the same time watchful. She seems to wait for something. Grandma’s skillful hands weave the mesh of a tatami mat. All of a sudden, she addresses Ama, not taking her eyes off work.

“Ama-chan, please, light okiandon. It’s getting dark.” Miko’s voice is peaceful, in concert with the smooth motion of her hands.

Little girl rises vigorously as if something she waited for, was finally fulfilled. Clearly, Ama is content with her duty. Little girl believes that okiandon lamps are nocturnal creatures who fall asleep by day and wake up to drift on the waves of darkness like cocoons lit from within. The one about to brighten up in a while is special for Ama. Miko keeps it in her workshop as if it is quite ordinary. But, little girl sees how grandma looks at it. Her eyes are enwrapped in this special tender mist while flicker through okiandon’s shape. Hinata, Miko’s friend gifted it to her. He knows how to make Ama laugh. His name means ‘sunflower’ or ‘facing sun’.

Little girl strokes the bamboo frame of okiandon tenderly.

‘Okiandon wakes up very slowly,’ grandma always says. ‘Don’t rouse it from sleep. Be gentle.’

Ama’s hand reaches out to the ceramic holder and plants little flame in its belly. Paper, indigo sphere brightens up. Ama knows that indigo is one of Miko’s favorite colors.

“Grandma?”

“Yes?”

“The shadow of the magical fox hasn’t visited me for the second time.” There is a note of disappointment in Ama’s voice.

“You can make him visit again.” Miko still keeps weaving the tatami mat. Ama perches next to her.

“But, what should I do, grandma? How could I encourage him to come?”

“Magical foxes can’t resist to gifts.”

“Ohhhhhhh, what might it be?” Ama’s eyes fill up with the clouds of little stars - fireflies.

Miko lifts her head, glances at Ama and says: “Each of the magical foxes is unique. It’s a receiver who chooses a gift for himself.”

Playing with the shadows

Ama leaps joyfully. She likes when Miko spends time with her and tells her stories about other, unknown worlds. ‘Grandma is beautiful,’ little girl concludes, taking a glance at Miko whose body language knows no doubts.

“Let’s play with our shadows,” grandma suggests.

“Yes, Miko-san!” Ama can’t resist exploring of the new dimensions. She bursts out laughing, as her shadow seems so amusing to her. It’s like a speck of ink on a world-wide sheet of paper. Moreover, it imitates everything what she does. But can it speak itself?

“Miko-san?” Ama asks.

“Yes?”

“Does shadow sprout out of my feet?” Little girl tries to flick her shadow off her sandals. Unfortunately, in vain. They seem inseparable. After a while, Ama starts to watch Miko dancing with her shadow.

“What are you doing, grandma?” little girl asks, her curiosity lingers.

“I try to encourage my shadow to speak with me,” Miko provides an explanation. “It’s like a wild creature. I need to tame it just a little bit.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” Ama thinks aloud.

“I can do it too.” Her assumption is well-grounded. She tamed a stray kitten one day.

“Miko-san?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I should tame the shadow of the magical fox, just a little bit,” Ama says. She squats and touches with her hand the intestines of her shadow.

“I think it’s a terrific idea!” Miko squats next to Ama. Her hand follows little girl’s hand.

“Should I dance with him?” Ama seems somewhat confused.

"Magical fox?!"

Somebody’s hands spread out fusuma’s wings. Ama listens for. Miko looks into the room and sees a child with its nose flattened out on one of the painted branches of the camphor tree. She smiles and gracefully sits on the tatami mats; no words, just waiting for the unfolding of events. Little girl catches her grandma’s glimpse and exclaims enthusiastically:

“Miko-san! Have you seen it?!”

“Who, Ama-chan?” Miko’s voice flows smoothly and quietly.

“Magical fox?!”

“It must have been a dream, Ama-chan” Grandma replies.

“But, Miko-san! I’ve really seen it!” The little girl doesn’t give up.

“All right, then. Tell me how it looked like,” Miko encourages Ama with a nod. Little girl smiles and looks into her grandma’s violet eyes which seem to radiate the unknown depths. Then, she comes up to Miko and rests on her laps. Enveloping grandma’s skin a delicate scent of roses fills Ama’s nose with warm lightness.

“Actually, I’ve seen only its shadow. I don’t know if that kitsune was real.” A grimace of doubt appears on Ama’s face.

“Come, I’ll show you something,” Miko says. They rise together. Ama weaves her little fingers into Miko’s hand and follows her to the garden. Grandma moves so lightly as if she were just a breath of air.

Ama awakes playfully

Ama stretches herself on a bed of tatami mats, sprawls her arms and legs so wide that her body, for a moment, takes a shape of a starfish. She giggles under the thin cover which tickles her nose. Then, she begins to blow into the fabric. While it doesn’t make any difference the little girl throws away the cover with one fast movement of her legs which seem to return an invisible ball. Ama breathes deeply. Then she rises a little bit on her elbows and casts a glance at blueness of fusuma, radiant from within with light penetrating from the other part of the house. Ama looks with her eyes for the painted shapes of little yellow birds inhabiting twisted branches of a camphor tree. Now, they seem to blur into sparkling oneness. The little girl smiles and sits on her legs. Unexpectedly, out of one point in fusuma’s space there seem to flow out an increasing shadow. It spills and grows into a human shape.

“Uhhhhhhhhh” the little girl holds the breath for a while. She takes a closer look and recognizes uiwata of her grandma Miko who most probably drinks her morning cup of tea. Ama sees her back but imagines how her grandma sips the golden liquid with her eyes half-opened. Two bamboo hair-sticks piercing the round, shadowy outline of Miko’s head attract little girl’s glance.

‘Miko surely wears the velvety, black, cotton crepe with a fresh lavender flower of azalea fastened to it’ Ama speaks under her nose. Then, she decides to greet her grandma, but notices a shadowy, pointed shape, round at the end, sticking out from fusuma’s edge.

‘What is that?’ Ama starts to wonder. She places her eyes on minute, arched tentacles growing out of the pointed shape. They seem to shiver gently. Ama approaches fusuma, slowly gliding over the tatami mats.

‘Who are you?’ She addresses the shadowy creature. The sound of Ama’s voice brings a change.

The pointed shape aims at her. It touches fusuma on the other side.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” Ama produces a sound of surprise witnessing transformation. A little bit higher, above the pointed nose, there ascend two triangular towers of ears – shapely and fluffy. Ama’s mind devotes itself entirely to the process of associations. A few letters whirl chaotically in her thoughts, finally composing only one word.

“K-I-T-S-U-N-E”

Ama whispers that word and hides her lips under her hands as if she said something what shouldn’t have been said. The little girl heard about the magical foxes in Miko’s stories. According to legends, they have never succeeded in acquiring a good reputation.

Now, Ama stares into the most treacherous of eyes that hide on the other side of fusuma ready to cast their spells on her. She hears the pointed nose sniffs the air filled with her sweet, lemon-grass scent.