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Category: Japanese American

I confess, and the world is still a mystery

(St. Francis Xavier church, home of my first confession)

Father Guetzloe ushered five of us into his tiny little room where his gowns and sacred chalice were kept.  We lined up and waited our turn, although I did not know what we were doing.  Perhaps there was instruction that I missed, which was entirely possible since I spent many days in first grade just concentrating on the blinds that covered our giant classroom windows.

The bloom and shed of cherry blossoms and festivals

Image(short hair fused with long hairpiece, during the one year we were asked to wear our hair long)

I once had long, thick, straight and beautiful hair until I was 9, when both my grandmother and mother decided that I would survive a humid Japanese summer better with a short cut.  We went to the beauty salon, where my hair was tied back and chopped off with one swift stroke of shears.