This was a lovely depiction of a flickering relationship whose end was nigh, although one of the couple did not realize it yet. The overall sadness of the piece tugged at the judges’ heartstrings. Though it might have taken place in any setting, it was the “skeleton of a dry cherry leaf” and autumn showing that “death could be beautiful” that belied a more than passing acquaintance with Japanese literature. The judges also felt that the contrast depicted between the evanescence of sparrows compared to their steps caught forever in cement had a particular “Kyoto flavor”.
– Karen Lee Tawarayama

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Sparrow Steps
by Amanda Huggins

Did you often recall that last afternoon in Haradani-en? I can still remember the clear blue skies, hear the leaves crackle underfoot. I held out the dry skeleton of a cherry leaf, told you autumn was proof that death could be beautiful. You took it from me, twisting the stem between your fingers.
‘So fragile,’ you said.
You’d lagged behind as we climbed the hill, and when we reached the top you paused, out of breath. I laughed, said we were getting older, but you didn’t reply. I think you hoped your silence would say nothing, would go unnoticed, yet I could hear every word you’d bitten back, could hear them echoing around Kinkakuji Temple.
We stopped at a bridge on the way back, and you sat on the steps to unfasten your boots, removed a small stone that was pressing into your heel. I crouched beside you, watched as you ran your fingertips over a row of bird footprints, captured forever in newly laid concrete.
‘Proof we can sometimes leave an eternal mark, that we live on after our beautiful deaths,’ you said.
I took a photograph of the prints next to your splayed hand; the immortal footsteps of sparrows, like tiny dinosaur fossils.
‘We should make a pledge,’ I said. ‘A vow that if we ever lose touch we’ll meet here at the sparrow steps ten years from today?’
I was so sure we’d never be apart. It was an easy promise.
You looked up at the cherry trees, and for a moment I remembered them in spring: petals delicate as insect wings, fluttering down like a whisper of moths, the trees bowing with the weight of their fleeting beauty.
That’s when I saw the uncertainty in your eyes.
‘Yes,’ you said, quietly. ‘We should do that.’