It is an ordinary Sunday afternoon. The grocery mart is at its busiest. Families are crawling around the aisles like ants in a maze, picking up the ingredients for the week. The kids are impatient and easily mesmerized by the innumerable temptations around every corner. The adults are hungry and sapped by admonishing constant no’s to their offspring. The billing lines are wrong and finding a table in the tiny food court is a hunter’s arena. But at the end of it all is the promise of hot katsu curry and creamy matcha and delightfully cool strawberry shortcake mochi. It is a Sunday afternoon all, and a little fun is to be had.
Outside, two young girls from the mart start setting up the rolling cart. The Californian sky is clear and crisp. The beginning of Fall has been touch and go for a while, but the nip in the air is just right today. The sun is fuzzily warm on the skin, like a kiss as one drifts off to sleep.
The girls start the fire and put up the sign for roasted chestnuts. The undertone of an aroma starts floating around. A murmur of excitement spreads. A pod of a mother, a grandmother, two children, and a pram float up. Roasted chestnuts? When was the last time they had had some, the two mothers consult. Back when they were kids themselves, and how cheap it used to be back in the country. The kids can sense that the adults seem happy, relaxed. Two paper bags are passed around, the heat radiating to tiny palms and old palms. A triad of teenage boys passes by and stops. So many emotions pass by on their young faces. They were at the cusp of being almost adults, and naturally inclined away from anything that hinted at the fact that they were once children. They were all about doing cool, grown up things. However, they did want some but couldn’t admit to it. What if they bought it ironically, wouldn’t that be a hoot? Ah yes yes yes…a consensus is made. The boys giggle as soon as they receive their treat. They toss some in the air and catch them with their teeth. Bounce a few off of each other’s heads and launch into laughter. A queue starts forming. A young woman decides to get a packet for her mom. She is reminded of the stories her mother used to tell from her own childhood. Oh, mom would be so happy to rediscover this little pearl of nostalgia. A couple wait with their dog. They recount the memories of how their parents used to hand chestnuts to them before going on a walk; the parents a bit ahead and chatting, the kids trailing, engrossed in play. A middle aged man lines up too. He asks if he can get a big bag of unroasted nuts instead. His friends are coming for dinner that night, you see. He will set up a little fire in the yard at night and they can all do the roasting together. Slowly and slowly, a small crowd builds up around the cart in the previously empty plaza.
The afternoon turns extraordinary.
