by Jarrod Zenjiro Suda
“Jarrod, it’s your turn to pray,” says the Mother.
Jarrod and his brother are sitting at a wooden dining table. Their feet have yet to reach the ground from their chairs.
Jarrod clasps his little hands together and shuts his eyes while the aroma of miso soup and chicken adobo rises from the table.
“Dear Jesus,” he says. “Thank you for the food.”
Meanwhile, the Father’s eyes remain open, slowly wandering the walls. His hands are resting on his lap instead.
Jarrod continues, “Amen.” The Father keeps silently to the background.
“Amen,” the others say.
As the Mother and her sons raise their heads from prayer, the Father suddenly presses his hands together – and the children follow him.
“Namu Amida Butsu,” the three boys recite. I take refuge in the Buddha.
The Mother is sitting quietly this time as she lets her husband’s tradition take its place.
“Itadakimasu,” the boys close. I humbly receive this food.
At last, the air of ritual clears. The release of steam from the pot takes center stage along with the sound of chopsticks and spoons – though the clammer is soon overtaken by stories and laughter.
The four receive nourishment from the flora, the fauna, and the labor of the cook.
And the dining room glows as they partake together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Maternal grandparents Ruth and Jesse Barizo
Paternal grandparents Willy and Lily Suda
The Mythographers 