A crowd noisily gathers in the auditorium, sometimes in large groups, occasionally trickling in one by one. Little do they know what goes on back stage. But if you open the door…
I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. Would they be nice? Would they speak English? What would they think of me? What would they think of our family?
My family and I were waiting near the last baggage claim, waiting for a long time, waiting for our Japanese relatives. Grandma Notsu would be there; Uncle Hiroo and Aunt Katsuko would accompany her. They were probably on the plane now…or off it, figuring out where to go.
As I look around the room
A pleasing scene now greets my eyes:
A family is sitting ‘round
And pleasant warmth within them lies.
The youngest boy, his math in hand,
Is trying to work a complication;
Yet, he works without frustration,
In his eyes shines fascination.
Besides his son, the father sits
To give whatever help he needs,
Thus showing love borne for his boy
And for the family that he leads.
It was snowing again.
When I first came to my office in London, I noticed him. He sat in the market place day after day, same place as always, same position, on his knees in an attitude of humility. A small wooden bowl was before him, and occasionally, a passerby would drop in a coin or two with a small clink. I never had time for him; he was just another beggar on the streets of London. And one couldn’t give money to all beggars.
Deep in the woods,
There’s a little wooden house,
And nobody lives there, but dreams.
And the laughter of childhood,
Floats on the breeze,
And splashes through crystal streams.
Find me beneath the old maple,
Let’s fight a few monsters today,
And return to the hall,
When the quest finally ends,
And we’ll sit with a fire ablaze.
Knowing well that we have
Something fleeting and sad,
That we’ll hold for as long as we can.
As long as we can.
I remember when we watched the sunrise over the river,
And we imagined dragons flying above, making the clouds into oceans.
The sky seemed to split apart, and fire rained down over us,
And we spilled into a new world that we made.
I remember when we walked through green hallways,
The trees making vaulted ceilings to our palace of fantasy.
We were dressed in all the trappings of wild princesses,
And we raced through the hidden tunnels of the new world we made.
It had been hours. A doctor had been summoned, Grandfather was rushed into one of the rooms of the estate, and the party was disbanded. Ettore had waited long enough outside the room in which the doctor was with Grandfather. He sat at the bedside and he observed how sick the man who raised him was. The doctor said his heart had stopped, but somehow, Ettore’s thoughtless reasoning kept him alive a little longer.
The room was silent and dark.
This chapter has no definite name. Since this novel is structured for later publication, I'd prefer a chapter name. If any of you have suggestions after reading it I'd love that!
Sun sets so low.
Fire lights the sky.
I asked you to come home.
I asked you not to die.
My brave soldier boy,
Fighting for so long.
My little soldier boy,
Please do come home.
When you cried your first
To when you hugged me last,
You’re gone forever and I thirst
So much for the blissful past.
My son, you promised me so firmly
When you were shipped away,
While, so tightly, you hugged me,
That on enemy soil you would not lay.