Spring Bridge

Today is Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub. Gabriella has given us four of her photos. We are to choose one and write a haibun to it. Please come and visit us! Four photos + great poets = endless possibilities! http://dversepoets.com/2016/02/01/haibun-monday-6/

Spring Bridge
After two years, we both had time to take a trip together.  Without any debate, we decided on England and then to your home of Hakone in Japan.  I had places to share with you in England, you had places to share there as well including Oxford Town and University.  I wanted to explore their school of Anthropology and you wanted to show me where you had boarded and studied as a medical student.

April in England is beautiful but April in England shared by two lovers is magic.  We drove from Heathrow – you a careful and precise driver, me giving you a hard time about being a Crazy Asian Driver.  You laughed and when it was safe, would lean over to give me a kiss or make the car swerve in its lane while you sang alternating between “Call Me” and “I May Be Crazy”.  No surprise, it began to rain.  We timed our singing to the windshield wipers and I played the console like bongo drums.  By the time we rolled into Oxford, we were hoarse and sedate.  After checking into our hotel, we ate dinner in the hotel restaurant and went upstairs to bed.  We sang again and did a small dance in the shower until soap got into my eyes….”When your heart’s on fire, you must realize, soap gets in your eyes…” you crooned as you washed my eyes clear of the soap.

The next day after breakfast we went exploring.  We rented bicycles and rode all around the university.  You pointing the various buildings to me, and reverently, we went into the Bodlean Library.  I wanted to clap with delight but respected the ancient silence.  From there we went to the Cairns Library where you came across a former professor who was delighted to see you again.  He took us to lunch and the two of you talked while I respectfully listened.  I loved the glow in your eyes and the respect the professor had for you.  A Ploughman’s Lunch with a malty ale – and heaven help us, a wonderful dessert with a horrible name – Spotted Dick.

A sudden April torrent began making rivers of the gutters; people continuing on their business under big black brollies.  We went back inside to drink coffee and talk and as quickly as it began, the rain ended.  We walked our bikes back to the hotel and crossing over a stone bridge, the usually sedate stream now raucously bubbling and running under the bridge to who-knows-where.  We stood in the middle of the bridge looking down at the water.  You leaned across the bikes to tip my face up to yours.  “Make a wish.  If you make it in Japanese, it will come true.”  I had to think a bit. My mind swirled like the water beneath us until finally I said, “Itsumademo issho ni itai.”  The silence between us deepened – sound of the water, birds chirping, bells from the University, distant traffic.  You took my face in hands and put your forehead on top of my head.  “itsumademo issho ni itai.”  you repeated.

But I must have said it wrong. Or maybe the rain washed away the wish.   For years now, we have been apart – you back in Japan, me back in my deep South.  “I want to be with you forever.”  Words folded like an origami boat, rocking on the water of a stream until it capsizes and sinks.

spring rain in torrents
beating down new spring grass
and drowning white blooms.

 

Photo credit: Gabriella