The Wishing Trees by John Shors

would bring him more pain than pleasure. “I reckon Mattie will fancy her first bullet train ride.”
    “I am sure that she will.”
    Mattie sipped her tea, studying their hostess. “Thank you for inviting us for dinner, Akiko-san.”
    “It is our pleasure to have you. And thank you for teaching my class today. I am sure that my students will be talking about you for a long time to come. My students work so hard. It made me happy, to hear them laugh.”
    “Akiko-san?”
    “Yes, Mattie-chan?”
    “Can I ask you something?”
    Akiko set down her tea. “Of course. Anything you wish.”
    “Is that your father?” Mattie wondered, pointing to the picture.
    “Yes. Although he was a much happier man than he looks to be in that photograph.”
    “How old were you . . . when he died?”
    “That was twelve years ago, Mattie-chan. I was thirty-four years old.”
    Mattie shifted on her cushion. “You seem . . . so happy now. How are you so happy?”
    Ian had told Akiko about his wife’s death, and the Japanese woman nodded to Mattie. “Not a single day goes by without me seeing my father’s photograph and wishing that he was here,” she said. “I will always miss him. But I have my mother and my students. My life is good.”
    “It is?”
    “Yes. I am content.”
    “That’s nice,” Mattie replied softly, looking down, wondering why she felt so lost without her mother, why she couldn’t be content like Akiko.
    “Now may I ask you something?”
    “Okay.”
    “Do you know what I see, when I look at you?”
    “Me?”
    “I see a girl who will soon be a young woman. And that woman, I am sure, will be like her mother. She may have her own children someday. And I think she will be so pleased.”
    Mattie looked up. “You do?”
    “Yes,” Akiko said, smiling. “My own life, I know, has been a changing of the seasons. My mother and I have spoken of this many times.”
    “How was your life . . . a changing of the seasons?”
    Akiko glanced at Ian, who bowed ever so slightly to her. “I was a child in the spring,” she said, “when the cherry blossoms filled the trees. And then the rains and typhoons of summer came, and sometimes I had to be careful. That is what I tell my students now—do not be afraid to splash in the puddles, but also do not forget to watch the sky.” She paused to sip her tea. “In autumn, when the leaves yellowed and fell, I went away from home and studied. And then, years later, my father died. That was the winter of my life. I felt so cold. But my winter did not last forever. It is once again spring. And I am as happy as the songbirds.”
    Mattie looked to her father, her eyes tearing. He reached for her fingers and held them tight.
    “May I tell you something else, Mattie-chan?” Akiko asked.
    Nodding, Mattie looked at Akiko’s big brown eyes. “Yes.”
    “Now, I think, you are in the winter of your life. But spring always follows winter, no matter how deep the snow.”
    “It’s deep. As deep as a house.”
    “But it will melt. And after it does, remember that just as the seasons come and go, so will smiles and tears. What will you learn from the tears? How do you share the smiles? How can you honor your mother by being a good person? Those are the questions that we must all learn the answers to. And I am sure that you will learn them.”
    Again Mattie nodded, her fingers still within her father’s grasp.
    “Thank you, Akiko-san,” Ian said quietly. “Your students are lucky to have you.”
    “Oh, I do not often share such thoughts at school. But here, among new friends, after a pot of nabe, it seems right to do so, yes?”
    Mattie sniffed and turned to where she had set her blue backpack. She opened it, leafed through her sketch pad, and came to the picture she’d drawn of the cherry blossoms. Her small fingers carefully pulled the edge of the drawing, tearing the paper from the pad. “This is for you,” she said, handing her drawing to Akiko.
    Akiko bowed, taking the