Hikaru Suzuki he stops to look at the statue of a woman, not wanting to enter yet
The statue depicts a woman who looks no older than her early 30s, standing with her hands clasped in front of her. Her face is smiling down at you in a way that feels warm and welcoming. For a moment, you feel almost inspired by the surrounding greenery. You unconsciously reach out to touch the statue, and find yourself flashed into a memory.
Suddenly, you’re in a cozy but brightly-lit room. The smell of paint fills the air, and energetic music plays from an unseen source. As your eyes adjust, you can see colorful paintings hanging on every wall in varying states of completion. Reference photos are pinned next to the art, along with several different types of flowers. The paintings themselves are breathtaking, with blooming flowers and dynamic figures that you can make out even in the unfinished pieces. The walls and floors of this studio are speckled with drops of paint, creating a dazzling and colorful sense of just how much use this room has seen.
You can see a woman– the same woman depicted in the statue– working diligently on the final few details of her current painting. Her long hair falls to her mid-back, but for just a brief moment you find yourself marveling at how similar it looks to Akemi’s current hairstyle. Her warm eyes and peaceful expression, however, feel like a far cry from Akemi’s tired and often cold, stressed demeanor. Her face and her more casual clothes are speckled and smeared with paint from several hours’ worth of work.
A young girl peeks her head into the door of the studio and stops, watching the woman work with rapt attention. A few moments pass before she quietly tiptoes further into the space, hypnotized by the artist’s process. As the woman finishes, she steps back to admire her canvas.
This piece in particular features a feminine figure, painted in soft pastel blues, pinks, and purples, surrounded by and nearly buried in forget-me-not flowers. The woman in the painting wears an almost mournful expression, peeking out from the veil of flowers.
“Wow…” the girl whispers to herself as she looks wide-eyed upon the newly completed piece.
The woman, not having noticed her enter, turns around and offers the girl a warm smile.
“Oh! Akemi-chan, I didn’t hear you come in. What do you think? I’m going to call it ‘Eternity in Bloom.’”
“I love it, Mama-! It’s…it has pretty colors, and pretty flowers…the girl looks so sad, though. Why is she sad?”
“Mmm, why do you think she’s sad, Akemi-chan? I’d like to know what impression my work gives you.”
Akemi stares hard at the painting, pouting her lips and squinting her eyes in deep thought.
“Mmmm…I think she’s sad because…the flowers are going to go bad soon, and she likes them a lot. There’s too many there and she can’t even get up without smooshing some.”
The woman smiles, unable to suppress a faint giggle at the interpretation.
“You’re absolutely onto something there, sweetie. Say, would you like to help me finish the final step?”
Akemi smiles brightly and gives an eager nod. The woman leads her toward the table where the paints are set up, and instructs her to choose a paint. Akemi chooses a light purple, which her mother uses to paint both her own and Akemi’s palms.
“Help me sign my work. You won’t be this small forever, so I want to keep a memory of it on the back of the canvas. No matter where we hang it up, the both of us will always have a little memory kept safe with it.”
The two of them press their hands against the back of the canvas, leaving two handprints side-by-side. Akemi beams up at her mother as she sets the finished piece back onto her easel.
“Does this mean my handprint is going to be in a famous museum someday?”
The woman giggles and kneels down beside Akemi, brushing her hair out of her face and leaving a smudge of paint on her cheek in the process.
“Someday, my love.”
Then, the memory fades.
