During the Obon holiday, I went to visit my parents’ grave, which rests in the quiet Higashiyama cemetery.
Monday was a rainy day, but my husband and I had a day off together.
Despite the weather, I bent down to pull the weeds that had grown around the stone.

As the rain fell harder, a voice suddenly called out to me through the downpour.
A man stood nearby.
He explained that a new section was being built next to ours, and that he and his companions were the workers.
With great politeness he said, “We’re sorry if we cause you any trouble.”
Then he added, almost gently, “The rain will only grow heavier. Please take care.”

After hearing his words, we quickly finished weeding, prayed, and descended the mountain in silence.
We were afraid we might get lost in the mountains.
Because I remembered that stray dogs had once looked down on me from the ridge above this place.
Maybe he was trying to warn us.

By the time we started heading home, the heavy rain had turned into just a light shower.