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Introducing our new article series with writer Maha Harada. Dive deeper into the world of pearls through her essays and stories exclusive to Mikimoto.
Vol.8
Someday, under one umbrella
A street corner in drizzly Paris.
Sari stood in front of the painting,
completely frozen.
It’s been four months since my daughter Sari and I moved to Chicago for my job assignment.
Sari seems a bit down, so I suggest visiting the museum together.
Part 2
Read Part 1At the end of summer, Sari and I moved to Chicago.
Sari was enrolled in first grade at an elementary school. She had been learning English since kindergarten, but will she not become isolated in an environment where there are only native speakers?
On her first day at school, I felt like releasing young fish into a great river. Sari looked a little nervous, but she gave me a wave and went into the classroom with her teacher.
Despite my concerns, Sari seemed to navigate the change with ease, quickly settling into her new school. She also picked up English with remarkable speed. That brought back memories of my own childhood. I was a third grader at elementary school when we moved to London as a family where my father had been posted. I was shy at first, but before long, I was connecting with my classmates, wasn’t I?
Yes, that’s right. Children aren’t as weak as their parents think. Sari is certainly not a fragile girl who is easily discouraged. After all, she is my daughter. And so, our new life in Chicago began.
With just one week left until Christmas, Sari and I headed to Millennium Park over the weekend to see the Christmas tree.
It’s been nearly four months since we relocated to the US. Sari has grown significantly, both physically and mentally in just four months. Crystal-clear eyes framed by long eyelashes. Rosy cheeks as smooth as a marshmallow. She’s such a beautiful girl that you can't help but be stunned when you look at her. What a pretty girl. She’s so pretty that I almost wonder if she really is my daughter.
“That’s called being a doting parent,” my husband laughed at me in a video call.
But as Christmas approached, Sari looked somewhat under the weather. I wouldn’t say she was depressed, but she seemed constantly lost in thought.
Dressed in her red coat, Sari walked a few steps ahead of me along the promenade of Millennium Park, keeping her head down. The long-awaited Christmas is just around the corner. Like most children her age, she could run frantically towards the tree. And yet, Sari kept her gaze lowered, seemingly watching her feet move in a regular rhythm as she stepped right, left, right, left.
Her red coat, which was too big for her in the summer, now seems to fit her body perfectly after just four months. Children really do grow suddenly.
Although we don't notice the changes daily, it’s not uncommon to see a child return from a trip, even one lasting only a week or so, showing remarkable growth. Now that Sari is attending school in the US, she must be growing every day through her classes and interaction with friends. Perhaps I’m not quite keeping up with the speed of her growth.
As we got closer to the square where the tree is located, the crowds increased. Sari kept walking further and further ahead, her head still hanging down. With the crowd almost hiding her red coat from my view, I called out, “Sari!”
I grabbed my daughter’s hand to stop her from getting lost. She looked up at me with startled eyes. A thought suddenly struck me: Is her mind somewhere else?
“Let’s go,” I said, keeping hold of her hand and walking back the way we came. Sari followed behind in silence.
Powdery snow began to flutter from the sky. A cold wind from the lake cut across my face like a sharp knife, making my cheeks burn. I thought about heading straight home, but I was concerned that Sari had fallen completely silent. I stopped walking and suggested, “Hey, why don’t we visit the museum together?”
Sari raised her eyes and gave me a nod.
Just a short walk away was the Art Institute of Chicago, the city’s leading art museum. When I took Sari there right after we had arrived in Chicago, she explored the huge museum with sparkling curiosity like a fawn frolicking in a forest of art. That was her first proper visit to a museum, and I think it immediately became one of her favorite places.
The museum was buzzing with people, not least because this was the weekend before Christmas. The people of Chicago seem to know that museums turn into a paradise of eternal spring during the cold season.
This was our second visit to the Art Institute of Chicago, and as soon as we entered the exhibition room, Sari seemed to recall how much she loved this place. She lifted her head and started admiring the countless masterpieces. I refrained from explaining any of the works and watched her freely immerse in the world of paintings.
Suddenly, Sari stopped in front of a painting. A large painting.
Maha HARADA
b. 1962 Tokyo, Japan
Based between Tokyo, Paris, Kyoto, and Nagano, Maha Harada is a creative visionary and exceptional storyteller who has produced world-class, category-defying writing.
Harada is one of the founding curators of Tokyo’s acclaimed Mori Art Museum; when it was established, she was sent to represent the Museum as a project researcher at its principal cultural partner, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. It is for this reason that Maha Harada is renowned as Japan’s leading creator of art novels and art entertainment.
She is among Japan’s most talked-about writers and creatives, and her extraordinary experiences give her an unparalleled ability to blend art and literature. Harada’s art novels journey into the past to breathe fresh life into some of the world’s most beloved artists, who still enchant countless people today. These stories transcend time and generation crossing the boundaries of nation and region. At the same time, they are rooted in the experiences of a woman born and raised in Japan.
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