Fairy tales in a liquor store

A memory.

I sink into my bright orange seat on the train, trying to soak in as much heat from under the seats as possible before stepping into the cold, humid, winter air of Saitama. I sit with my best friend and constant train companion, Bethany, and we giggle loudly about silly little girl things without any thought to the people around us. When the train doors open, we wave goodbye and she makes her exit. My stop is next. The train station is very old. On the occasions that I can’t hold it until I get home, I use the train restroom, which only has holes in the floor for toilets and smells like it hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. I have my train ticket punched at a booth, and exit the station to enter the attached department store.

I’m in second grade at the Christian Academy in Japan. My favorite color is pink. I wear the clothes my mom puts out for me and I don’t get excited about receiving clothes for my birthday. Loose fitting tops with stretchy leggings and floral designs and cotton tracksuits are my wardrobe.

My mom spends ten to fifteen minutes every morning spraying my hair with detangler and combing through my masses of fluffy blonde curls with a wide-toothed pick. It will be at least another three years before I can even conceive of taking care of my hair on my own.

This day is like any other day. I know it will be a while before I get picked up from the station, so I meander around the department store for a few minutes, doing my favorite things. There is the tea kiosk, which smells fragrant of roasted tea leaves and has a decoration of a teapot with what appears to be perpetually pouring tea. It’s actually a piece of bright green plastic that is a spinning spiral.

Sometimes a few of the stores have free samples, so I keep my eyes out for them. Free samples are an odd struggle for me. I love finding them because I love food, but I feel guilty because they are free and I won’t be buying anything. I step into the bakery, which smells intoxicatingly of milk, butter and sugar. There are several samples available and I take one from each basket. If the sample is at the grocery store, I sometimes pretend to be interested in what the vendor is selling; a package of dumplings or a new flavor of Calpis, which is a yogurt drink.

But my final destination at the department store is at the very right hand corner of the store. A very quiet place where I can be alone with my thoughts and imagination, which is always full of fairies, talking animals, amusement parks, and God. I ignore or don’t even notice the store owner when I step in, and I am now transported to another world full of magical, colorful bottles of all shapes and sizes.

Spells and potions. A fairytale.

The story in my mind continues as I pick up and examine bottles which in reality are whiskey, Japanese sake and wine. Only in Japan would a little white girl come into a liquor store every day and pick up the bottles and no one say anything or ask her to leave. Perhaps they think I’m cute, or they think I won’t understand. I realize that time has probably passed faster than I realize, and I put the last bottle back, and step back into my own reality. My dad is picking me up in our car and taking me home, where my little sister is waiting anxiously to play with me after my homework is done, my youngest little sister is still on the way, and we’re having curry rice for dinner.