I hear the sound of motor stopping in front of the house, the mailbox door opening and closing, and soon, the paperboy’s scooter running off to finish his morning delivery before the sunrise. Outside, it is still dim.
I have been awake because of the jetlag and am getting hungry and bored. I am dying to go downstairs and get the newspaper. But, no. I have to wait. I have to wait until my dad wakes up and finishes with it. Dad always reads it first while it is still crisp. So, I wait until Dad puts the paper and reading glasses down while keeping a cigarette in one hand. Then, it is for me to devour – the now slightly wrinkled newspaper.
I didn’t actually read everything on the paper. I skimmed through the headlines and, if I saw something interesting, then I perused. When I was a child, I don’t think, I ever paid attention to the newspaper. After moving out of Japan, I started to pay attention to anything written in Japanese with Japanese culture in mind. Whenever I visited my parents, I went through papers and magazines, wanting to know and learn what I was missing.
I haven’t had newspapers delivered to my place since I left my parents’ house. My dad had his favorite paper, and my mom never changed the subscription until she moved.
Nowadays, I read news from Japan online, and even when I go back to Japan, I won’t have the freshly printed newspaper wafting cigarette smoke in the morning any longer.
For The Daily Post’s daily prompt: “Newspaper“