green kimono

I am marrying my husband again.  We have not gotten unmarried, we are just getting married again.  Like going to see a favorite movie again, because it was so wonderful the first time.  Like eating your favorite pie again.  Like a morning cup of coffee.  Like painting.  Like breathing.  Marrying him again because he makes me giddy.

 I am younger than I was when I first married him.  He glows, I blush and many people have come to celebrate with us.  We have a long thick wooden table set in our living room.  There are many spaces and soon the people will fill in the seats.

I wear a green kimono with a cherry blossoms and trees along the bottom.  My husband also wears a dark blue kimono.  We sit at the table and a distant relative comes to our house to congratulate us.  The women have a young girl that they say we must have. They are scared and excited.  They say we must hurry.  We must take the girl, we must hide her first.  We must hurry to the magistrates to get married again NOW.

They hide the little girl in the men’s bathroom.  I am nervous.  They carry the girl to the men’s room and place her in one of the toilets.  Little round boys lift the heavy porcelain water vessels and show the girl that she can hide.  I fear that there is not enough water removed and that she will drown.  I do not know why they need her to hide.  I tell my husband that we must hurry to get married again and cannot wait for all the guests.  I fear for the little girl in the water tank.

We go quickly to the magistrate’s.  My husband is told to place his finger prints on a slate tablet.  He swipes his fingers down the tablet and then places a finger print above each finger swipe.  I move around to the same side of the table as my husband.  It is my turn to place my prints on the slate tablet.  I place my fingers in the ink then slide my fingers down the slate.  The magistrate scolds me and tells me to make individual prints on the slate.  Small splashes of ink platter on my kimono and on my husband’s dark blue kimono. 

Once our prints are done, the magistrate says that we are married.  I am happy.  I joyfully kiss my husband.  He smells sweet.  I love him.  I pull him away to find the little girl.  I worry over finding her.  So does my husband.

We find the girl.  She is in the cistern filled only half of water.  She is wet and cold and scared.  She grabs on to us and we wrap her in a blanket.  We are safe.