Sora

Our new dog, Sora

Video by Uta

Splits

Kizuki's corner

Loves

Hurricane!

and dance

Song

Watering the garden (sniper style)

Then and now

This is the day Kizuki was born. Uta was Seven years old.

 And now Kiki is almost two. She's 'pretending' to be a baby in this picture. Uta will be nine this month. Cliche or not, its true, time flies and kids grow up too fast.

O-Sushi Time-u (from Uta's diary)

Papa?

Whereas Uta has been pining for Papa since the day he left and counting the days until his return, Kizuki hasn't seemed to notice his absence. She often sings of the people in her life that she wants to see, chanting their names over and over like a spell to make them appear. But there hasn't even been a single mention of him. Today, however, suddenly everything looks like H. The lady in this subway add and the drawing in our living room were pointed at repeatedly and declared "Papa!". I'd venture to say its anything with black hair and glasses, but then she also started pointing to Uta's basketball and calling it Papa too. 

Say cheese!

 This is Kizuki.

And this is Kizuki after I asked her to smile for a picture.

 Here's the pose that Uta took when I aimed the camera at him.

And this is him caught in a natural moment of play.

Scary

Digging big holes at the bay

Climbing to new heights

Butterflies

Captain Uta

Uta got a little taste of speed and uncharted seas. Zipping across bays, hands on the wheel, wind in his hair, contentment all over his face. Coming upon undiscovered (by him) lands. Swimming to shore and exploring foreign beaches where the stones are smoother and the waters clearer. Summer has peaked. Can we do it all over again tomorrow?

Play Ball

It was family vs. family in a softball game at a recent family reunion. Here's Uta playing outfield with his Uncle J. The party gathered together all the living descendants stemming from Uta's great great grandmother, Faustina Rivalsi, my mother's mother's mother. I'm not sure what traits Uta has carried forward from his Italian roots, maybe his evil eye, or insane love of garlic. I wonder does he have his great great grandma's hands? Or maybe a similar expression when he's sad? Faustina died the year I was born, so I can not say. But it was wonderful to reconnect with family still living. We are all steadily drifting farther and farther apart, a trend that can't be helped. But it feels like a crime when listening to our uncles and aunts reminisce of their childhoods tightly revolving around close knit families, food, and home. There were many people I had never met before, and some I hadn't seen in thirty plus years. I don't even feel old enough to say such a thing, but its true. I'm determined to learn to roll my own gnocchi and bake panettone in a coffee can, just like my great grandma did. But mostly I'm inspired to make some new family memories, ones that Uta will cherish the telling of when he is old enough to look back.

On the farm

Zuzu at the zoo

Our first stop at the Bronx Zoo was the House of Birds. If it were up to Kizuki, we would have stayed there all day. It was a whole new world for her and she was a little stunned with delight. All her favorite pictures from animal books were suddenly standing before her as living, breathing, enormous creatures. At the first exhibit she held on tight, refusing to let go. Why would we want to leave? There were big glorious birds within inches of our noses. After a while she began to understand that leaving one animal meant discovering another.  She barked with the Sea lions and meowed at the leopards. She observed 'big' or 'baby', depending on the size of the animal. But mostly she just looked and looked with a quiet intent. Watching her watching the animals left me quite in awe of this small person. There is a good mind behind all that cuteness and it is so exciting, every day, to see her growing into her own. 

The Bronx Zoo

These are iconic photo ops for New York City kids. If you have visited the Bronx Zoo with a child under twelve years old, most likely you have a picture of them with their head sandwiched between fake fox ears, or perching in this giant tortoise shell. There is also the irresistible rope spider web to climb and the giant tree that houses a secret corkscrew slide that Uta says feels like it will never end.  

Little sister

Stoop sitting

Good old fashioned stoop sitting has not gone out of fashion in our neighborhood. Young and old pile up on  the steps to catch a breeze and a little neighborhood gossip. We are lucky to have a handful of good kids Uta's age always ready and willing for a game of tag or soccer. And Kizuki is delighted with all the dogs passing by and friendly strangers to befriend. 

Soccer ball blues

Uta is at that sweet and fleeting age where he loves with all his heart (or at least tries to love as best he can) anything his Pop loves. At the moment it is soccer. Soccer represents all that is good about his Dad, all he admires, and all he hopes to become. So when Uta's soccer ball, the one given to him by Papa just a few days earlier on the very eve of Japan making soccer history, was run over by a truck, the whole wide and heavy world crashed right down on top of him. We heard him wailing his head off before he even stepped foot in the front door. I thought for sure he was the one split in two. It didn't help matters that as he cried in despair over the death of his ball, Hiroshi packed his suitcases to leave for Japan in the morning.

The next day we went out and replaced the ball with the exact same one. Uta styled his own special soccer outfit to match the ball and honor Japan's World Cup soccer victory. (It is no secret that Uta loves soccer style a little more than the game itself, though I think maybe Uta has yet to realize this about himself.)

Papa in Japan

The days leading up to Papa's departure have been volatile. Uta has had daily breakdowns and explosions of uncontrollable sobbing for any and all inane mishap that has come his way. Last night was a good one. A UPS truck hit his soccer ball as it rolled into the street, and popped it like a ballon. Uta cried so hard his nose bled and then screamed at me because my refusal to go into the city at that very moment (right before bedtime) to buy him a new one, was clearcut evidence that I didn't care and didn't understand how special that ball was to him. True. But its hard to be sympathetic when the hysterics are happening round the clock. Its like little deaths of invisible friends replayed daily. Our poor boy has been acting a little loony. But I've suspected its all really due to the fact that Papa has been getting ready to return to Japan by himself, which is a first for us. And now that he has finally gone, and is at this very moment somewhere high above our heads on his way to Tokyo, a much needed calm has returned to our home. The going is so much harder to bear than when in fact he's actually gone. He's gone for good reasons and of course he'll be back. We wish him lots of luck and all the love in our hearts.

Popcorn

My Grandson the Zombie!

Here are some photos of Uta on the day of his hip-hop performance. The kids all had their faces coated in baby powder to look like zombies for their rendition of Thriller.