The dictionary gave us a nondescript willow (柳), and we made it weep until it matched our mental image. By splitting that word in two, we got an arrow (矢) and a calm (凪). The surface of the sea, when the wind dies down and the waves disappear.
There’s a girl under a willow tree. She plucks one leaf after another, trying to put an end to the calm that years ago seized the sea. It’s been ages since the wind last blew and the waves last rose, and the girl can’t take it anymore.
She gets rid of all those willow leaves because those tears have only caused her suffering. They have kept her from setting sail. They have stopped time, keeping her from growing up. The girl breaks off one branch after another, and she sharpens them, restoring them to their original form.
Armed with a bunch of arrows, the girl runs towards the shore. The wind doesn’t run alongside her, but that’s about to change. The girl shoots one arrow after another. They pierce the wind and the surface of the sea. And for the first time in ages, the air stops smelling of tears. For the second time in her life, the girl feels wind and sees waves.
Art imitates life. But I am not keen on ups and downs. I want to intersect the horizon at a right angle. I want to fall in love with life. I want it to take my breath away and flatline my heart. My red balloon has to burst. No more ripples in my fishbowl. They will be the last, and I will remember them for the rest of my life. This weeping willow isn’t a deciduous tree. Red and green are complementary colors. They form a perfect horizon, and I won’t settle for anything less.
There is something called the calm before the storm. It has a passing resemblance to what I feel after I have cried my heart out, and I wonder what name I should give that nothingness. Maybe I should just describe it. Pinwheels are colorful by design, their purpose is to coax us into feeling alive. But mine has faded to white, it sits still in a watering can that’s filled with droplets of my heart. I want my colors back, I wish I could peel that white away. But fear stays my hand. There are no promises, and it’s not as harmless as skinning my knee. If the petals of my pinwheel somehow fell off, I wouldn’t survive an absence of red.
I have heard that arrows can be made from willows, but I don’t know if I have it in me. I have a lump in my throat. I have an urge to scream and sharpen my tears into arrowheads. If I could pierce the sky and let it weep on my behalf, I would already have opened my mouth. But that’s not how this works. The moment my heart broke, the target was painted. Those arrows would go through blue as if it were air, their sights set on red. But I don’t want company for my misery. What I want is the rain to wash everything away.
I know I’m supposed to describe it as a lump in my throat, but it feels like a string of tears around my neck. I don’t see myself ripping it off, I don’t want pearls splashing every which way. Sadness is prone to leaving stains that are a nightmare to remove. What I want is to unravel my sadness as if it were a scarf. I want to get to the root of this weeping willow, tie it to an arrow and shoot it out of my sight. It’s just that I’m not always mindful of the direction from which the wind is blowing.
Left Wind: I have a feeling this is the calm before the storm.
Right Wave: Don’t be silly, those clouds are harmless.
Left Wind: I’m not talking about those clouds. I have been told that what goes up must come down. Balloons don’t float out of this world, they don’t become stars you can connect at will. We can’t ward off disappointment forever, sooner or later those deflated balloons will come back to haunt us.
Right Wave: Just so you know, I blame you for this.
Left Wind: I’m sorry.
Right Wave: I told you to uproot that willow tree and blow it into the sea. I would have taken care of the rest. But no, you had to go and tempt fate. See what you have done? Those aren’t sunrays. Your carelessness has come back to bite us.
Left Wind: I wonder if this is how children feel on the rare occasion their wish comes true. I’m so glad I pinned my hopes on those arrows. You never know with shooting stars, but I knew we could count on those arrows.
Right Wave: Doesn’t your heart hurt?
Left Wind: No. I feel alive, recharged after a good nap.
Right Wave: I didn’t want to wake up. Waves like me break, and I am still sore. I would have liked more time to dream and forget.
Left Wind: At least one of us is happy.
Right Wave: We are finally free. Don’t you feel like shouting triumphantly? I am so grateful I could burst into tears.
Left Wind: You go ahead, I’d rather keep my heart still. A minute-long shout is not worth the three days I would have to spend untangling my hair.
Anyone can wipe tears away. What I want is to face the sun and shoot arrows into the air. I want to break off the branches of a willow tree and cauterize the wounds. Sadness can’t be allowed to take over, it can’t be allowed to run away with everything of value that you have. Handkerchiefs are for waving bon voyage, and I refuse to give sadness my blessing. Tears are part of life, but infections have to be staved off.
Out of sight, out of mind. Those are the words I live by. Distance makes me uncomfortable. Lost. Bows and arrows. Cordless telephones. I always wear my heart on my sleeve, and I expect blood on my hands. I’m sorry, but callouses don’t cut it for me.
If yesterday you had told me that arrows fly straight, I would have blindly believed you. But children grow up in the blink of an eye. I used to see a straight line when I looked at the horizon, but now I know that it’s a curve. An upside down smile. Winds die down and waves break into pieces. But that’s not how their story ends. Winds are brought back to life and waves are put back together. Time and time again. But I have grown up, I am past the point of no return. If tomorrow I want to smile, I will have to make an effort.
I wasn’t a clueless child, I never wished upon the stars. I grew up watching people, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I curled up with those textbooks and withstood those lulling waves, and now I am ready to reap the rewards. I have every confidence in my arrows, I know that they will find their target and won’t let me down.