Hinamatsuri

My name is Akiko, and I can feel a special magic in the air. The chilly winds of winter are finally softening, and the first plum blossoms are starting to peek out on the branches. Here in my home in Edo, that means only one thing: Hinamatsuri is almost here. Every year on March 3rd, Japan celebrates Girls’ Day, and it is my favorite day of the entire year. It’s a day for wishing health and happiness to all the girls in the country. My heart beats like a little drum when my mother goes to the sturdy storage chest in the corner of our home. She and my father carefully lift out several large, heavy wooden boxes. They smell of cedar wood and history. Inside these boxes, wrapped in soft, protective paper, are my family’s most precious treasures: the Hina dolls. My mother told me that some of these dolls belonged to my grandmother, and even my great-grandmother when she was a little girl. Holding one feels like holding a piece of our family’s story. As we begin to unwrap each one, I feel like we are gently waking them from a long, year-long sleep, just in time for their special day.

Our first task is to build the palace for our dolls. This isn’t just any dollhouse; it’s a magnificent tiered platform called a hina-dan, which we cover with a beautiful, bright red felt cloth. It looks like a grand staircase for royalty. I get to help my mother with the most important part: placing the dolls. Each one has a specific home. On the very top tier, the place of highest honor, we set the Emperor, O-dairi-sama, and the Empress, O-hina-sama. They sit in front of a golden screen, looking so calm and noble in their elaborate silk robes. They are the rulers of our doll world. On the second tier, just below them, we place the three court ladies, who serve the Empress. Each one holds a tiny, perfect piece of serving equipment. The third tier is for the five musicians of the court, the gonin bayashi. I love looking at their miniature instruments—a small drum, a large drum, a hand drum, a flute, and a singer. I try to imagine the beautiful music they would play. Below them, on the fourth tier, are the two ministers, who are wise advisors to the Emperor. Finally, on the fifth tier, we place the three samurai protectors, who guard the entire court. We also set out miniature furniture, like tiny chests of drawers and little serving trays with food. When it’s all finished, our little corner of the room is transformed into a splendid, colorful imperial court from long ago. I can stare at the intricate details for hours.

When March 3rd finally arrives, the day is filled with joy and delicious smells. I get to wear my favorite kimono, a beautiful one with a pattern of cherry blossoms. My mother ties the obi sash just right, and I feel as special as the Empress doll on her platform. The day is not just about the dolls, but about celebrating girlhood. We eat special foods that are as beautiful as they are tasty. My favorites are the hina-arare, which are colorful, sweet puffed rice crackers, and the hishi mochi, which are diamond-shaped rice cakes layered in pink, white, and green. My mother tells me the colors represent good health and the beauty of spring. She explains that the entire display, from the Emperor doll to the tiniest piece of furniture, is a prayer for me. It is a wish for my future happiness and good fortune. As I sit and admire our beautiful hina-dan, I think about all the girls in Japan celebrating just like me. It connects us all. But we all know the one important rule: when the day is over, we must put the dolls away quickly. My grandmother always said that leaving them out past the 4th means a girl might have trouble getting married someday. I always make sure we pack them away carefully, thanking them for another wonderful Girls’ Day and wishing them a peaceful sleep until we wake them again next year.