After supper her mother took her out onto the narrow balcony of
their apartment, many stories above the buzzing city. An enormous
lily, taller than either of them, loomed up, soft and fragrant against
the evening sky.
Mother smiled. “This is a small miracle. Grandfather has cul-
tivated this lily for six years, but each year it was barren. It never
bloomed until tonight. It’s his shinibana.”
Makiko knew what shinibana meant. It was a person’s death
flower, someone’s last magnificent achievement on the eve of leaving
this earth. Of course, it didn’t mean a real flower—it was just a fig-
ure of speech. Yet here was the figure of speech come to life.
They went to get Grandfather, and slowly, leaning on both of
them, he made his way out to see the flower. The moment his eyes
focused on the white bloom, he seemed to leap back into the present.
“Magnificent!” he whispered. His eyes wandered to Makiko’s
face, and he gave her an affectionate smile. He soon tired, and they
escorted him back to bed.
lars
(Lars)
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