The PUMPKIN LETTER

I found the first pumpkin just as the last colors of evening were sinking into the garden.

It lay beneath the garden bench—a little orange globe small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

The remnant of its vine curled like a cat’s tail. When I picked it up, I noticed words carved into its skin. A poem, etched with a slender blade.

> Though the light is small,

> it can still show the way.

The carved letters were somewhat angular, but perfectly legible. The grooves were fresh, and when I ran a finger over them, I thought I could still feel the raw dampness of the pumpkin beneath its skin.

I looked across the garden toward the house next door. Tall sunflowers nodded in the fading remnants of autumn. Behind them stood a figure in a pale-colored shirt.

It was Mr. Sasagawa, my next-door neighbor.

The shadow went still.

Pumpkin in hand, I froze as well.

After a moment, the figure slipped away behind the house without ever stepping fully into view.

◇◇◇

I had returned to my grandmother’s house that spring.

After clearing away the dust and rebuilding a life among her belongings, I found work as a part-time librarian at the local community library.

Until the previous summer, I had worked at a gift and lifestyle shop in central Tokyo. I had always loved making little things, so after graduating from university, I joined a company that sold handmade goods and accessories.

Apparently, however, I enjoyed making things far more than I enjoyed selling them.

My heart could no longer keep pace with the relentless demands of the job. When my grandmother was hospitalized, I used it as an opportunity to resign.

Until she passed away that spring, I took care of her almost entirely on my own. My mother apologized for my having to leave my job, but the truth was that I had partly used my grandmother’s condition as an excuse to escape from it.

That left me with a faint sense of guilt.

My parents divorced when I was in second grade, and whenever school was out, I was often sent to stay at my grandmother’s house.

It would not have been an exaggeration to call this place my second hometown.

The community library and the botanical garden within walking distance were places I had visited nearly every day as a child.

Spending my grandmother’s final days with her had also helped me come to terms with my love for her—and with the grief of losing her.

The following evening, another miniature pumpkin lay beneath the bench.

> A letter from the wind

> carries the season.

Different words had been carved into this one.

I picked it up and looked around.

*It must belong to the neighbor, right? What should I do? Should I take it over and tell him it ended up in my garden?*

The pumpkin had been hollowed out, its opening like a wide mouth, with enough space inside to hold a candle.

In the end, I told myself it was already too dark to visit him. I carried it inside and placed it beside the pumpkin from the previous day.

On impulse, I borrowed a candle from my grandmother’s Buddhist altar and set it inside.

“Oh, wow…”

The flame within crept out through the carved letters, creating a surprisingly enchanting glow.

I placed candles in both pumpkins, switched off the lights, and stood back to look at them.

Whoever had made them must have carefully planned the placement of the words. The letters were carved at almost exactly the same height on each pumpkin, with beautifully even spacing.

Together, they created a wonderful atmosphere.

“Heh. They’re lovely.”

Apparently, my neighbor was the sort of person who became absorbed in making things like these.

I wondered whether the poems carved into them were his own creations.

I had introduced myself when I first moved in, but since then, our only interactions had been the occasional nod whenever we happened to meet outside our front doors.

We had never had anything resembling a real conversation.

Mr. Sasagawa probably lived alone as well.

His garden was always immaculately maintained, though I had rarely seen him working in it. He was probably a little older than I was—tall and lanky.

He did not look like the kind of man who would make something so delicate, but then again, people should not be judged by appearances.

“I’ll have to return you two when I get home from work tomorrow.”

Resting my chin on one hand, I watched the candlelight flicker and gently poked one of the pumpkins with my fingertip.

◇◇◇

“Haruka! Could you lead the children’s story time?”

Mayumi, the library director, called to me from the entrance to the partly underground stacks.

“Of course! I’ll come upstairs as soon as I finish putting these back.”

Every Thursday afternoon, we held a read-aloud session for children. It was scheduled at just the right time for parents to stop by with their children on the way home from nursery school or kindergarten.

By the time I returned from the stacks, about three families were already seated in the children’s area.

“Now then. I wonder what today’s picture book could be?”

I tilted the cover just enough to give them a glimpse.

“A witch!”

“There’s a kitty!”

“Is it about ghosts?”

The children scrambled off the adults’ laps and crowded closer.

“Halloween is almost here. So today, I’m going to read you a story called *The Wonders of Halloween*.”

The children eagerly began telling me about the Halloween decorations they had made at school. Before I knew it, even more of them had gathered around me.

“Rin was a girl who was afraid of ghosts and the dark. That was why she could not understand why everyone else wanted to turn into ghosts—”

*One Halloween night, timid little Rin meets Pokka, the spirit of a tiny lantern. Together with her cat, Ruu, she sets out through the town to collect the answers to all the mysteries of Halloween.*

*Why do people wear costumes? Why do they say “Trick or treat”? Why do they light lanterns?*

“Rin asked, ‘Why does everyone turn into scary ghosts?’

“And the baker in the witch’s hat replied, ‘Because when you turn into something scary, the thing you fear becomes your friend. And then it isn’t scary anymore.’”

One of the children raised a hand.

“Does that mean the ghosts join your team?”

I laughed softly.

“Maybe. Ghosts, monsters—all the scary things might become your friends.”

“Whoa! That’s amazing!”

*Rin walked through the nighttime streets and discovered the answers to many of Halloween’s mysteries. At last, she asked Pokka one final question.*

“‘Why do we walk outside at night?’

“Pokka smiled.

“‘Is the night frightening? Some lights can only be seen because it is dark.’

“Pokka pointed to the little lantern in Rin’s hand.

“‘Now follow the light and see where it leads you.’

“And so Rin followed the path cast by her lantern—”

*In this way, Rin finally found her way home.*

“Pokka’s little body floated gently toward the window. The flame inside Rin’s lantern went out.

“‘We shared so many wonders tonight. I’ll see you again next year.’

“With a soft little thunk, Pokka turned back into a tiny pumpkin.

“Ruu meowed.

“Rin was no longer afraid of Halloween.

“‘The things I feared have become my friends,’ she thought.

“And as she gazed up at the night sky, she drifted off to sleep.

“The end.”

The children had listened in complete silence, thoroughly absorbed in the story. Now they all began talking at once.

“Halloween isn’t scary!”

“I’m not afraid of ghosts either!”

I watched them with a smile.

Then I raised my head and caught a brief glimpse of a tall man standing in the shadow of one of the bookshelves.

*Was that Mr. Sasagawa?*

I returned the departing families’ farewells while following the figure out of the corner of my eye.

Still holding the picture book, I left the children’s area and wandered among the nearby shelves, searching for him.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

“Good work, Haruka. You really are wonderful at story time,” Mayumi said. “The way you move the book around while you read so every child can see the pictures—that’s practically an advanced technique.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Thank you, Mayumi. Um…was there a tall man standing near the counter a moment ago? He was wearing glasses.”

“Was there? We had quite a few fathers here today. Is he someone you know?”

“Well…sort of.”

Perhaps I had imagined him.

I hardly knew Mr. Sasagawa well enough to be certain it had been him in the first place.

I was probably just overly conscious of him because I had still not returned those pumpkin lanterns.

When I got home that evening, I would make sure to visit the house next door.

This time, I was determined to do it.