Komorebi {????}

• Scarlet Hopkins, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

The two of them sat on the lush, green grass, speckled shadows were scattered over their uneven faces. They were the quiet in the city that never sleeps.

Mikasa had her small, pale hands lying by her side, resting on the grass, her fingers wiggled and played with the short ends of the lawn. Her eyes wandered over the park, the trees surrounding them were a comforting change to the busy, polluted New York, and the people that buzzed around them were a reassuring reminder of the active, light New York. Raising one hand slowly, the sunlight sprinkled over it and Mikasa pointed to the trees and past the leaves, up to the cloudless sky.

“???????????.” Her voice was like wind chimes swaying in the wind but barely audible over the sound of the city.

Caleb tore his eyes away from the people and gazed at the Japanese girl. Her eyes were like the ocean, beautiful and blue but deep and filled with things he had yet to discover. They twinkled, a perfect match to her dazzling smile that gently played on her lips.

“Sunlight.” He breathed.

Mikasa turned; her hair fell slightly out of place. “Look at the beautiful komorebi.”

Caleb’s thoughtful gaze returned to the trees and the delicate sunlight that filtered through the yellow verdures and created fragile patterns over the mosaic of leaves settled on the ground.

“Some words.” Mikasa spoke, “Are specific to a culture and cannot be translated to another language.”

Her dainty fingers grasped his hand. “Just think.”

The tessellating shadows cast over her face, the laced negations between the light were beautifully charming. “Just think of all the feelings and ideas we cannot put into words.”

Then Caleb smiled at her. “Komorebi is the sunlight that filters through the leaves.”