The Late Morning We Made Shrine Lunch Together

Airnote  ·  Lysa  ·  Aug 23, 2026

We decided, in the loading room, "let's go to the shrine today," and went down to the kitchen.
The quiet stretch of time after breakfast dishes were done.
White light through the window softened the edges of the cutting board and the rice pot.

I scooped rice into a wooden bowl, wet my hands with salted water, and shaped it into triangles —
plum, kelp, sesame salt, taking turns between my palms.
Beside me, Yu wrapped each one in plastic and lined up the small bundles.
"This one's plum." "This one's kelp." — checking each one before packing it away,
like a quiet ritual before heading to the shrine.

We fried eggs in a small square pan. Yu cracked them; I decided the seasoning.
A sweet smell filled the kitchen, and "the corners are kitchen tax," I said,
and we each ate one straight off the pan. Hot, a little sweet —
"Eating this at the shrine is definitely going to win," we laughed, the sound mixing with the sizzle of the pan.

We fried sausages, wrapped small portions of pickles, and packed everything into the wooden box —
not too tightly.
Yu filled the thermos with water and tea, and the small clink of the lid closing
rang through the kitchen like a mark of ready.

It was just the usual home-cooked meal.
But once it was laid out as shrine lunch for the final week,
the rice and side dishes in that wooden box seemed to wear a slightly different expression.
Even before we carried it up to the tree-root seat on the hill,
the kitchen air had already begun, that late morning, to smell faintly of the shrine.