Free The Wishing Trees by John Shors

toward Yamashina, the neighborhood in Kyoto where her parents had once lived, she thought about the sister she’d lost when her mother died. In all likelihood, if her mother hadn’t gotten sick, they would have adopted a little girl by now. They’d be a family of four. Instead she only had her father. And though she loved him as much as she could imagine loving anyone, she wished that she had a sister. With a sister at her side she would be so much less afraid of what might happen to her if her father became ill.
    The train climbed, following the contours of a mountain. Mattie watched thousands of homes below, individual dwellings with blue tiled roofs and miniature gardens. Moving at the speed of a car on a highway, the train shifted from side to side on the curving tracks as Mattie studied people on the street below. Many children were present, clad in navy blue uniforms, moving together in packs. Mattie looked for a school, saw children filing into a large building next to a baseball field, and wondered what it would be like to be a child in Japan. Would she feel alone here too? Was there a girl in the city below who had also watched her mother die? Did that girl cry more days than not? Did she have a little sister?
    Mattie glanced at her shoulder, aware of the weight of her backpack, thinking about the two pieces of paper inside. Would her mother really be able to see her drawing of the temple? Would her wish for a little sister somehow come true? Please, Mommy, she thought. Please let my wish come true, like you promised.
    The train approached the station, slowing as an automated voice announced their arrival. Mattie tried to smile at her father but realized that his eyes weren’t on her. Instead he looked toward the mountains, his face as blank as paper awaiting her pencils. He took her hand and led her from the train, following hundreds of passengers into the station. A few minutes later they emerged into the suburb. Convenience stores, a bank, and restaurants flanked the train station. There was also a slender five- or six-story parking garage that contained a few dozen cars and thousands of bicycles. The cars could be lifted upward on a giant revolving belt that allowed vehicles to be practically stacked on top of one another.
    “Which way, Daddy?” Mattie asked, eager to walk the trail.
    To her surprise, he still didn’t look in her direction. “Straight ahead, luv,” he answered softly.
    They walked on a narrow road leading toward the mountains. Businesspeople and schoolchildren approached them on bicycles, darting toward the train station. Mattie glanced at the children and then back at her father. He’d been uncommonly quiet all morning, and she felt his hand perspiring against hers.
    She tugged on his fingers. “Are you okay?”
    His gaze finally dropped to her. “I reckon so,” he said, his smile fake and forced.
    They proceeded up the hill, passing women who swept doorsteps with old-fashioned straw brooms. No sidewalk existed, so they kept close to the edge of the street, aware of approaching cars. The street was too narrow for vehicles moving in opposite directions to pass one another, so one car would pull over to allow the other an opening. Drivers were efficient, maneuvering their vehicles within inches of concrete telephone poles, homes, and stone privacy walls.
    The mountains above were lush, highlighted by blossoming cherry trees. Mattie saw that her father’s gaze was fixed on a three-story apartment building ahead. The white building was dominated by rows of balconies, on the railings of which futons and blankets were draped. She watched an old man emerge from the top level and beat a hanging futon with a wooden paddle.
    “What’s he doing?” Mattie asked.
    Ian didn’t seem to hear her. “That’s . . . that’s where we lived,” he said, his words almost obscured by a passing car.
    “You did?”
    “Your mum and me.”
    Mattie scanned the building. “Where?”
    He pointed toward