Normally, waking up to a pair of legs dangling down over your second story window would be a cause for alarm. But with her two boys visiting for the holidays, Chichi just shook her head. She opened the adjacent window, and popped her head out. “Minoru, what are you doing?”
“Look! It’s snowing!”
The flakes had barely started to dust the ground, but it was indeed snowing. The forecast called for several inches over the course of the day.
“All the more reason for you to come inside and warm up.” She encouraged. “I was just about to pour myself some tea. Would you like a cup?”
Chichi moved back from the window when she saw Minoru’s legs swing around. He dropped toward the open window like it was an American Ninja Warrior obstacle, and expertly slid himself inside the hallway. The trick shook off some of the snow, but his hair still had a light dusting, much like the ground outside.
“Yes, please!” He grinned, turning back to the open window. A long, winding road could be seen between the rooftops in the neighborhood. “Hey, Mama… remember when I used to go sledding down that big hill?”
“I remember the year you tried to go down it on a garbage can lid, and we had to take you to the emergency room when you broke your arm crashing into a mailbox. You kept insisting it was Isamu’s idea.”
Minoru laughed and shrugged.
“Hey, he was the one that told me to put the sled in the garbage.”
“Because you’d broken it…” she began.
“Yeah, yeah… I know.” Minoru laughed. “Crashing into a mailbox.”
Chichi sighed, handing her son a warm cup of green tea. “Minoru, it was the same mailbox.”
“I obviously needed a little more practice.” He sheepishly replied.
“At that point, you needed a cast.” She corrected him. “And if memory serves, about three and a half weeks inside to think about making better decisions.”
Unfortunately, being grounded until the cast came off was hardly a deterrent. And neither was the cast. If anything, Minoru saw them both as a challenge. By the time they rang in the new year, Minoru had figured out how to roll forward without using his arm and had moved on to testing out his new trick over stacks of his brother’s books. Isamu was not pleased. Neither were Itaru and Chichi.
“Mama… did you ever wish I was more like Isamu?”
Chichi sipped her tea quietly. “While your father and I may have often been at our wit’s end trying to keep both you and everything around you in one piece… No, of course not, Minoru. Not even for a moment.”
She put a hand on her son’s shoulder and looked outside again. The snow had really started to come down now. It was beautiful to watch.
“No two snowflakes are alike. But together, they make the world beautiful. Just like you and your brother.”
Minoru smiled, unable to stifle the yawn that followed.
“Speaking of Isamu, he’d better get up soon. I’ve got a question for him too.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I need him to calculate the most aerodynamic sled substitute you’ve got in the garage. The garbage can lid isn’t nearly as big as I remember it being.”
“Oh, Minoru…” Chichi sighed and just shook her head.
4. No two snowflakes are alike.
“Look! It’s snowing!”
The flakes had barely started to dust the ground, but it was indeed snowing. The forecast called for several inches over the course of the day.
“All the more reason for you to come inside and warm up.” She encouraged. “I was just about to pour myself some tea. Would you like a cup?”
Chichi moved back from the window when she saw Minoru’s legs swing around. He dropped toward the open window like it was an American Ninja Warrior obstacle, and expertly slid himself inside the hallway. The trick shook off some of the snow, but his hair still had a light dusting, much like the ground outside.
“Yes, please!” He grinned, turning back to the open window. A long, winding road could be seen between the rooftops in the neighborhood. “Hey, Mama… remember when I used to go sledding down that big hill?”
“I remember the year you tried to go down it on a garbage can lid, and we had to take you to the emergency room when you broke your arm crashing into a mailbox. You kept insisting it was Isamu’s idea.”
Minoru laughed and shrugged.
“Hey, he was the one that told me to put the sled in the garbage.”
“Because you’d broken it…” she began.
“Yeah, yeah… I know.” Minoru laughed. “Crashing into a mailbox.”
Chichi sighed, handing her son a warm cup of green tea. “Minoru, it was the same mailbox.”
“I obviously needed a little more practice.” He sheepishly replied.
“At that point, you needed a cast.” She corrected him. “And if memory serves, about three and a half weeks inside to think about making better decisions.”
Unfortunately, being grounded until the cast came off was hardly a deterrent. And neither was the cast. If anything, Minoru saw them both as a challenge. By the time they rang in the new year, Minoru had figured out how to roll forward without using his arm and had moved on to testing out his new trick over stacks of his brother’s books. Isamu was not pleased. Neither were Itaru and Chichi.
“Mama… did you ever wish I was more like Isamu?”
Chichi sipped her tea quietly. “While your father and I may have often been at our wit’s end trying to keep both you and everything around you in one piece… No, of course not, Minoru. Not even for a moment.”
She put a hand on her son’s shoulder and looked outside again. The snow had really started to come down now. It was beautiful to watch.
“No two snowflakes are alike. But together, they make the world beautiful. Just like you and your brother.”
Minoru smiled, unable to stifle the yawn that followed.
“Speaking of Isamu, he’d better get up soon. I’ve got a question for him too.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I need him to calculate the most aerodynamic sled substitute you’ve got in the garage. The garbage can lid isn’t nearly as big as I remember it being.”
“Oh, Minoru…” Chichi sighed and just shook her head.
“What?” He laughed, watching the snow come down.