Memories

Author: KuroKumo Yume

Morning sun gleamed through the drapes like embers in a faint fire. As I roughly dropped down another box, dust flew with crude wings into my windpipe. I coughed and gagged with great difficulty in the humid attic.

“I don’t know why grandpa just doesn’t get rid of this stuff” I said with a sigh. “What is this junk anyway?”

My curiosity had captured my mind as I slowly opened the box to find only a heap of old newspaper clippings. Just junk. I kicked the box aside, scooting it along the wall. As it impacted with the wooden barrier my ears, caught the sweet song of a music box. Being the antique freak I was, I could not help but to run to the crates side. I dug franticly in the faded newspaper clips. At the bottom of history was a discolored burgundy music box. Atop this antique was a hand-painted masterpiece. A red, gold, and jade peacock stood proud on a slender branch with a golden sun behind him. The edges were outlined in jagged pieces of shells that had been set into the wood. I slowly opened the lid and found times past items. Inside was a handmade wooden box that held something peculiar. A sakura blossom had been dried, and its frail remains were imprinted into the crimson lined compartment. There was also outdated yen; and underneath it all was a photo of a stern mother with morose eyes. Her children were gleefully smiling in amazement at the contraption that was said to take a still-life. A strange smell was wafting from the petite box. It stank of smoke like that of a fire.

“Such sweet children they were.” A raspy voice echoed through the tight space. It was grandpa.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to go through your things, how rude of me-” I sputtered, frightened and still entranced to my findings.

“If you had not meant to, you would not have done it, girl. Now come there are lots more boxes to carry.” He slowly turned around and hobbled down the steps, his breath harsh and feeble.

I carefully placed the delicate box into the papers and scurried downstairs with grandpa.

“Who was the family in the photo?” I questioned.

“Some unfortunate souls.” he replied roughly.

“Please, grandpa! I wish to know!” he looked at me and sighed.

“Sit child and I shall tell you of a long ago story.” He swatted his hand toward the floor. I did what I was told, curiosity enveloping my mind once again as it had always done. I folded my legs into a pretzel and wondered patiently as the back of my thighs stuck to the tatami mats in the hot, muggy heat.

“It was in 1945, near the close to World War II. The young boy‘s name in the photograph was Wataru Nakajima and the young girl was his sister, Takako Nakajima. Their father had gone off to war a while back and their mother was striving just to keep them well. Due to the horrific war the food supply was in a very poor predicament. The empire was just barely able to feed its people. Most had collapsed in malnutrition. With all the air raids lately nothing really was understood in any household.

‘Takako doesn’t like the war.’ Takako would say constantly, always afraid of what was going to happen next. ‘Takako does not like not eating. Takako is hungry.’

‘Come on, we have to go to the shelter. I’m very sorry, but you are going to have to wait if you want to eat.’ said Wataru as he packed the remaining supplies.

“The worried mother kissed each child once as she pushed them out the door. Wataru never forgot that last gift of love. He would realize to treasure it later in his life. ‘I’ll meet you at the shelter’ she would say; but strangly to the children she would never show up. A few moments later she was killed in the air raid. By that time, the two children were safe within the shelter.

‘It smells bad in here, big brother.’ Takako said. It did smell bad. It was the smell of death and sulfur. ‘Brother, I’m hungry.’

‘Here,’ Wataru handed the frail five year old the small rice cake that had been prepared by their deceased mother.

‘Where is Mama?’ Takako said.

‘She’s sleeping.’

‘Where is Mama sleeping?’

‘She’s home.’

‘Can we go back home?’

‘No, we have to stay in the bomb shelter.’

“It would go on like this constantly. Wataru knew that their mother was dead but he could not tell little Takako. Soon they would have to go and find a place to live because the shelter caught on fire after one of the evening air raids. They did find a place. It was a small hollowed out area in the side of a hill. It had a wonderful cherry tree nearby, and the ocean was very close also.

‘Is this where we are going to live, Wataru?’ Takako said happily.

‘Yes.’

‘Mama will be able to find us, right?’

‘Do you remember her?’

‘Yes!’

‘Then she has to find us. She will follow our love for her and she’ll find us.’ He pointed to her heart and she smiled.

‘Right here?’

‘Yes, right here.’

“She was so happy then, hearing that Mama would find them. It hurt Wataru so badly on the inside, knowing that it was all a lie, but he would just stand there and smile. An empty smile that showed true sadness.

‘Wataru, look what Takako found!’ Takako said with surprise.

‘Oh, wow a music box. It is beautiful Takako.’

‘Big brother can Takako have it?’

‘You found it didn’t you? Of course you can have it.’

‘Yay!’

“One sweaty afternoon, after Wataru had gone to buy food, he had come home to Takako digging a small hole.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m digging a grave.’

‘Why are you digging a grave?’

‘It is for Mama. Mama is dead, so she needs a grave.’

‘Takako…’

“That day he left her alone to dig the grave. In the end she buried a photo of their mother. Takako had known the whole time. She had known that their mother was dead.

“ A few days later, Takako had become horribly ill. She had complained of diarrhea and other forlorn symptoms. Takako had broken out in a rash, and Wataru took her to the doctor. The doctor said it was because of malnutrition. There was no place to get food due to the war. So Wataru had to start stealing food because their small supply of money was ending. They had already begun to eat fish that they would catch in the harbor. He would steal during the air raids when no one was around and during the night Wataru would go to farmers’ gardens and steal their precious vegetables. He started to eat less and less giving all of his food to Takako, as she withered away.

“The day she died was when Wataru died on the inside. He had returned from stealing dinner when he found her too weak to move and delusional. She fell asleep and never awoke. He cried himself to sleep that night curled next to his deceased sister. The next day he performed a cremation ceremony and spread her ashes into the ocean. He kept a small amount of her ashes in the music box that Takako had found. Wataru never went back to the house they had lived in again.”

“That is a very sad story grandpa.” I said.

“Yes, it was a very heartbreaking time.”

“You are Wataru, aren’t you grandpa?” I asked very concerned.

“Come child, you have boxes to move.”

“Yes, grandpa.” I unfolded my stiff legs and took a hold of his hand. In return, he squeezed mine and went into the dining room. He sat down and hung his head in his hand and began to sob silently.