by Tamiko Dooley

You were sharing a room
With the other girls
First job, first flight
Out of Narita.

6 hats perched on the tables for tomorrow,
6 skirts hanging and 6
Pairs of heels by the bolted door,
Next to the mini-fridge.

First night away from home.

Your stomach rumbled and
You remembered my grandmother
Had made you an omusubi rice ball
You crept out of bed to unzip your suitcase
Whilst the others shouted at you to be quiet

You unwrapped the delicate paper
Still smelling of the house in Nakano
Baba’s palm prints molded onto the
Seaweed, her thumbprints in the rice
Signature sweet and tangy umeboshi at the centre

You knew then what you were leaving behind
That adventures would begin to unfold

Your tears fell silently
Blending into freshly-washed hair
Ready for tomorrow’s early call
First job, first flight.