THEY SAY IN the East that a crane lives a thousand years, a
turtle ten thousand. Makiko’s grandfather, too, had lived a long life.
Now he was dying, like the ten-thousand-year-old turtle swimming
peacefully out to sea.

Farewell

by Marnie K. Jorenby

Illustrated by

Felicia Hoshino

Makiko remembered Grandfather as a man of brilliant colors.

With his palette knife he could make any shade of the rainbow. He

encouraged Makiko to dip her brush in the paint and make her own

colors. When she walked with him through downtown Tokyo, where

they lived, colors popped out of the scenery like children running

up to play. Grandfather’s index finger was a magic wand guiding her

eye to what was special. One of her earliest memories was seeing that

finger against the blue sky, pointing to a brilliant pink rose.

Grandfather was well known among those who appreciated fine

portraits, so artists from all over Tokyo came to say farewell. One

day there was even a visitor from Paris, and Makiko was amazed to

hear her grandfather burst out, “Eh bien, Philippe, mon vieux. Ça fait

une éternité... .”

While visitors streamed by, Makiko sat quietly by his bedside,

pouring tea. Outside the apartment was Shinjuku Station with its

honking and buzzing and roar, but inside were calm voices discuss-

ing color and foreign lands and sunsets on the sea and memories.

APALETTE KNIFE IS USED BY

ARTISTS TO MIX AND BLEND

PAINTS. IT HAS A FLAT,

FLEXIBLE BLADE.

“EH BIEN,

PHILLIPE,

MON VIEUX.

ÇA FAIT UNE

ÉTERNITÉ”

MEANS “WELL,

PHILIPPE, OLD

CHAP, IT’S

BEEN AN

ETERNITY.”

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