Trifter

Mount Fuji’s white bulk catches me as I turn from the roaring grey Pacific waves toward home.It was a hectic day of commuting between conversation schools via crowded trains where cracked ribs are not unknown.Above the surrealistic landscape of apartment rectangles and neon the mountain stands aloof.It is a forgiving climb-some friends and I climbed it in around 8 hours-with straightforward paths and even a post office at the summit. Admittedly the asthma sufferers in our group-Rie and I-needed some 02(read oxygen).But any pain on the way up was more than offset by a lovely bunny like descent

I turn the bicycle once again down the past the convenience store near our appatto or apartment and as my 3 month daughter is still just half asleep we seek the ricefields behind the freeway.A tiny viper gets crushed beneath our wheel as clouds of white doves,spectacular against eventide blue circle and circle again into invisibility,indivisibility…

The soba-ya or buckwheat noodle seller was asleep as we past and now some of the obachans or old women come forth chatting with family and neighbours.

The bike, truly ancient,hits a speed hump and as I ride I turn automatically to tuck my daughter’s blanket in.She is snoring in the endearing way babies do.I make the final towards home as the sun plays its final ripples on our apartment and Fuji’s flanks