Read The Language Inside Online
Authors: Holly Thompson
later as we waited
in our classrooms
aftershocks jolting
power came on
network was up
but cell phones
were down
from a school computer
I blast-emailed Mom, Dad, Toby, Madoka
YiaYia, Gram, Gramps, cousins—
big quake, I’m at school, everyone here okay
not knowing who would see my message
or when
trains were stopped
people were stuck
I couldn’t get back to Kamakura
and finally was dismissed
to walk with Juulia to her house
where I translated Japanese TV news
for them while her mother followed
Finnish and English news online
and where we watched in disbelief
as tsunami waves engulfed
the Pacific coast of Tohoku
I tried calling Madoka in Kamakura
whose grandparents, cousins
aunts and uncles
all live up north in Miyagi
near the sea
I sat on Juulia’s sofa
stone still
holding my head
hoping those relatives had all
run
fast
near midnight I reached
Mom and Toby in Kamakura
their power and heat finally on
Dad staying the night in Tokyo
and right away I asked
but Mom said no
Madoka’s family
hadn’t heard any news
seeing those waves blast away
seaside towns that looked like ours
towns that could have been ours
towns I’ve visited
with Madoka . . .
I hardly slept
all night
I rose
when I finally heard
someone else up at dawn
and joined Juulia’s father
in stunned silence
in front of the TV
midday on the day after
Mom came by car to get me
and back in Kamakura
I went straight to Madoka’s house
to help them try to make contact
to help them wait for news
Dad got home that second night
by train, bus, walking
and on the third day we learned
that Madoka’s grandparents
survived
her cousins were safe
but later we learned
the first floor of her grandparents’ house
was ruined
one cousin’s school
was gone
one uncle’s fishing boat
was gone
one uncle’s factory
was gone
one aunt’s sister
was gone
one uncle’s wife
was gone
and the list
of gone
went on
and on
in late April, Dad and I
Madoka and her father
packed a van full of supplies
cleanup gear and two used bicycles
and drove north to Miyagi
at her grandparents’ house
the waterline
was above my head
a car stood on its nose
between the kitchen wall
and a neighbor’s wall
another had bashed down a shed
and four were crumpled
against a broken utility pole
the garden was littered
with splintered chairs, a drum
shredded mats, plastic crates, clothes
a urinal and dresser drawers
trees crusted with mud
were hung with trash
tangled in string
and weighted with dead fish
Madoka’s Jiichan, her grandfather
pried open the door to his house
and we peered inside to furniture
heaped, overturned
reeking and stuck
in oily salty sludge
but at least they still had a house—
a couple streets away
the waterline hit two stories
and beyond that
all the way to the sea . . .
there was only rubble