I remember how the banging of the drums seemed to rattle my heart and the excitement of the audience began to grow. Young children would be called up for a turn of mochi pounding, and even though I was clearly far over the age limit, I couldn't help myself raising my hand and begging to be picked. The one good thing about being a teenager, someone stuck in limbo between childhood and adulthood, was that I was able again try to be picked as an adult volunteer. I loved the way that their pounding was so perfectly timed with the rhythm of the drums; it was as if they were all driven by the same beautiful, unyielding beat. Towards the end, I could feel the anticipation radiate off the crowds for everyone wanted a taste of the mochi that was so diligently made.