[2 mins reading time]

I will tell of gifts and giving, she says.

There is a certain country recovering from war.

Cities fire-bombed. Soldiers coming home defeated and dejected. Small ceremonies in each neighbourhood, designed to make them feel welcome. Food is short, dust from broken concrete and collapsed buildings seems to fill the air for years.

It is two decades later.

Taitesu Unno writes how little bits of rubble can be turned into gold. How a true gift involves giving up something we might ourselves cherish.

He and his family is given three grapefruits by a friend. These are from the country that had sent the bomber planes.

At the time, fruit is rare and expensive. Mother decides to give her ikebana teacher the three fruits as gifts.

A few days later, they receive a letter brushed in black ink on rice paper.

The teacher comments first on the lovely winter sunshine. Spirits are raised. She expresses her thanks.

She writes how has she shared the first grapefruit with her grandchildren. They are thrilled with the fragrance of this fruit they’d never seen before.

The second she gives to a friend she’s not seen for twenty years. It marks the reunion with simple power. They eat it together.

The third she takes to hospital. A best friend is dying. This friend hasn’t eaten for a week.

She tries a segment.

She asks for another, then one more.

The gift of grapefruit, the sweet aroma filling the room, this one small present causing such ripples. The watching family are crying.

This grapefruit story now grows longer roots with each telling.

It had become a kind of currency. One of kindness.