Summer Special Memoir vol.2

Donkey Bakery

Wednesday is an unusual day of the week because nobody in my private preschool is supposed to bring their lunch.  On some Wednesdays, we have to go home before lunch time.  On other Wednesdays, a teacher opens the little bakery in the office foyer to sell us some bread.  On these Wednesdays, a little truck rolls in through our school gate and unloads pastries into the building.  I only wish it could be my favorite Donkey Bakery.  If it were the Donkey Bakery, a real donkey would haul its trailer full of pastries through the narrow isle between the classroom buildings and the common temple hall building, while the catchy Donkey Bakery Theme song followed it. This song reminds me of Ferde Grofé’s On the Trail, of course, with the sight of the enormous Grand Canyon’s sunset.  With this tune, your mind will travel to the donkey’s back, holding the reign, swaying your upper body, and bumping your bottom while traveling on a rocky surface.  Sometimes the donkey lazily neighs. This somewhat idiotic and humorous music movement fits extraordinarily well in the gorgeous symphony, the Grand Canyon Suite.  The Donkey Bakery Theme song sounds just like the On the Trail music that instantly takes me to a dream land that I have never been to, aside from dreams. 

One day, I heard this song at Mitch’s house across from our house.  My heart began racing.  Agitation!  It allured the 3-year-old’s genuine temptation.  I happily inhaled the irresistible aroma that came along with the silly donkey melody.  Just visualizing my favorite Sweet ‘n Soft Steamed Bread filled my mouth with water.  All five of my senses were stimulated by the Donkey Bakery.  I had to get permission and money from my mother, so I could get something!  My mother’s regular bet is Mighty Hard Bread that is sweet but almost breaks your teeth.  If you don’t want to chip your teeth, you have to suck it for a long time so that it gets soft enough to chew.  Usually, my mother is not going to buy a Sweet ‘n Soft because it doesn’t last long enough to entertain a short tempered preschooler.  Mighty Hard Bread is my mother’s best friend; it is a long time period baby sitter. But I beg every time anyway, “Will you get me a Sweet ‘n Soft Bread?” 

“Mitch, I must go.  Good Bye!”  Slamming open Mitch’s door, I slipped my shoes on for the perfect run across the busy Main Street.   My old neighborhood had been a crowded and busy town with the commercial and industrial merchants.  Many small business owners and their descendants had developed and passed on their businesses over the years underneath the Japanese Castle during the Samurai era. In addition to the business buildings, people, bicycles, motor cycles, and cars were all sharing Main Street.  Were some things in my way?  I didn’t care.  My focus was just on where I would dash to.  I would have taken about 5 seconds to get home.  I darted toward my house like a bull.  But, in the middle of the street, something tripped my feet and hoisted my little body in the air for a second.  Then my little body fell on the hard concrete ground, flat on my tummy, just before I enjoyed a flying sensation.  Thud!  “Ahhhhhh!”  I’d just run through a donkey’s feet!  I froze on the ground like a dead frog by the donkey that was ignoring and passing by me.  There was a filthy looking canvas bag under the rider’s seat where the donkey’s droppings directly fall into.  What an amazing idea, this canvas sack’s spot was!  My eyes caught the huge amount of Donkey’s brown baseball-like dung.  The double shock of falling down and witnessing a poop sack paralyzed my entire body as well as my mental functionality for a long time on the hard ground.  By the time I finally stood up by myself, the Donkey Bakery’s theme song was far away from where I was.  The thoughtful wind carried almost echo-like music to a miserable child.  In the distance, the trailer became a tiny dot which became smeared in my wet eyes. 

Heartbreakingly, I dragged my feet home.  “What happened to your dress?  Oh, no, your knee is bleeding.  Did you fall?  What happened?”  Holding my baby sister in one arm, Mother looked terrified.  She washed my bloody knee.  “Here, why don’t you eat your snack,” she comforted me.  On my hand, a piece of Mighty Hard Bread left over from last week sneered at me, “He, he, he….  Eat me!  I am your destiny.”  Madly I started biting it.  It wouldn’t budge.  Then I realized I had to give up before my teeth broke; I had to suck it just as usual.  It was my typical snack time.  I often fought, but most of the time, I withdrew, then ended up obnoxiously sitting in front of the TV in the house where my family and Grandma Fumi lived.