２０２５年に感謝！



２０２５年はとても充実した一年が過ごせました。ありがとうございました。
２０２６年も健康で充実した時間が過ごせますよう、心からお祈り申し上げます。

Celebrating the97th Anniversary of Okikura Store

November 1, 1928 —
On the birthday of the eldest son, Yoshiya Okiyama, Okikura Store was founded.
This year, we proudly celebrate our 97th anniversary.

The founder, Kurao Okiyama, was the eldest of ten siblings.
The second generation was led by his eldest son, Yoshiya,
the third by his third son and my father, Noriaki,
and today, as the fourth generation, I—Yuichi Okiyama, the founder’s grandson—continue the family legacy.
Including myself, there are twenty-one grandchildren of the founder.

In May 2012, we opened a café, transforming what had long been known as
“the island’s everything shop—selling everything from urns to toys.”
The company itself remains the same, but the business has evolved.

Even now, island elders often say to me,

“I remember buying toys at Okikura when I was little.”

In October 1983, a major eruption of Mount Miyake buried the original store in lava.
During the busy summer seasons, the shop once employed more than 40 part-time workers,
and monthly sales even exceeded 10 million yen.

When another eruption in 2000 forced all residents to evacuate the island for four and a half years,
my father once confessed,

“It seems Okikura Store will end with my generation.”

Hearing those words, I felt a strong desire to carry the torch forward.
So I left my job at Recruit and decided to take over the business.

Today, our sales are less than one-tenth of what they once were.
Still, through this new form as a café,
I find deep fulfillment in each passing day.

People from all over the world, each with their own reasons for visiting this island,
somehow find their way to our small, unlisted café.
They sip coffee, browse our original goods,
and in each of these encounters, I feel genuine gratitude.

As I approach my sixtieth year, I sometimes wonder,

“How much longer will I be able to keep living this way?”

Yet something mysterious happened in the summer of 2012,
the year we opened the café.
On August 4, the day of my grandmother’s passing,
I saw a night rainbow.

Since that day, I’ve occasionally heard a voice in my dreams—
as if gently guiding me, saying, “This is what you should do next.”

It may sound like I’m simply following divine guidance,
but I believe this path was laid out long ago.
So I’ll keep trusting those signs,
and cherish whatever time the future still has in store.

A Stray Cat at Summer’s End

 

Every evening around sunset, a certain stray cat makes its appearance in my garden.
It strolls in with the confidence of a landlord, as if to remind me that this territory is under its management.
When other cats happen to wander in, they are promptly escorted out—as though rent is overdue.

Of course, I could argue that I am the actual owner of this garden, and that the cat is nothing more than an uninvited guest.
But when I see it at the close of summer, yawning in its usual spot as though it has survived the season with me, I find myself strangely willing to share the lease.