The letter came in the mail, in a pretty envelope written in a calligrapher's hand, and inside that envelope was a letter. It was beautiful, neatly decorated with the practiced hand of a professional with my name written in kanji done in mahogany ink to match the scheme of the letter.

Hasegawa Mari.

I almost threw it away.

I knew who it was from before I even saw the sender.

Hasegawa Dosan.

My grandfather.

I haven't seen him since my grandmother's funeral. Still, every year he would send out those stupid, pretty little Shogatsu invitations, beckoning all of the grandchildren and his children to his home for a New Year's celebration.

And every year, I would throw them in the trash.

I don't know why I held onto one this year. He was turning ninety at the end of the month, and I was closing in on thirty-one. Who knew how many of those he had left? Maybe that was what stopped me. Maybe that was what made me call up my fiance and ask if he had plans and if he would be willing to drive me down from Sapporo to his little old house in the country near Lake Yogo. 

The last time that my grandfather and I had spoken, there had been a fight.

A big one.

I was dating an art teacher, and I had started to teach dance. We made enough to get by and loved what we did. It was enough for my parents, but not for him.

I needed to aim higher, find something better, get a real job like my cousins who were lawyers or business people. I walked out on him that day and never looked back.

I gave my parents a call and let them know where I was going and that I would come and visit. They weren't going. Neither was my aunt. I figured someone else must be there. I doubted that they'd let him have the holiday completely alone. Some of the cousins and aunts and uncles had to have had an eye on his inheritance or maybe the old, historic house he lived in with my grandmother. He had enough things of value that someone would try to butter him up.

At least, that's what I figured.

If not for the money, then maybe for the duty of it all. 

That familial obligation that seemed so hard to justify having, one I managed to get rid of as soon as I left his house that day after our very important talk that he insisted on us having. Can't refuse the patriarch, or so I thought at the time.

Funny how easy it wound up being.

Sitting in my fiance's old car, I stared out the window and remembered when this time of year would make me excited, when it was just me and my grandma.