WE’VE ALWAYS LIVED by the sea, and every sunrise is different.
Today is an early spring dawn, delicate pink like inside a snail shell. My sisters and I row our small boat over the choppy waves. Oba, my aunt, stands at the stern. The wind off the ocean is cold, but it can’t dampen my excitement. This is the first time I’m diving for real, and not for practice.
“Tama, pay attention,” Oba says to me.
“Sorry, Oba.” I lay my oar down inside the boat.
We strip down to our loincloths, and one by one, stand at the prow to fall backward into the water. We each have a basket that we leave floating on the surface. At day’s end our baskets will hold treasures we’ve found: sea cucumber, abalone, clams, mussels, oysters, seaweed, sea urchins.
But I’m looking for a pearl. A pearl would mean Sae could come back.
Sae is my oldest sister, and she lives far away, in Toyko.
I remember the night she decided to leave. It was Tanabata, and the whole village was out enjoying the summer evening on the rocky beach. We sat around a
