Skip to main content

Memories of Paris

       I have almost died twice. Surprisingly both times happened in the same year. But because I was just a baby at the time, I have no memory of these life-threatening events. So, these stories were heard from my mother.

        Plus a little bit of my own imagination.

        We were living in Paris for the year on account of my father’s business. One day my father went out to attend to business leaving my mother and the rest of us at home. My mother was cooking in the kitchen. My two years older brother was playing with LEGO blocks. I, on the other hand, was sharpening up on my less-than-perfect crawling capabilities. At that time, a fresh summer breeze stroked my cheek. The window was left open. My mother was smart, but she was a forgetful person. I was smart, too, but I was a quiet person.

         We were on 8th floor. Birdsongs and good smells came from outside. At that moment I thought, “I can fly.”

         I tried to approach the window to test the result of my training. Luckily, my mother didn’t notice my plan. I took off from the carpet with baby power. Just as my head went out of the window, my brother grabbed my leg and shouted, "Mom!" She ran and picked me up. I could see the Eiffel tower in the distance. Thus, my plan failed. Since then, when my brother and I have a quarrel, he always ends the argument, “I saved you!”

　　  The second story is when I had grown up a bit. I was a one year old toddler. I was sharpening up on my less-than-perfect toddling skills. My mother, my brother and I were walking through a metro station. I tried to climb up stairs with my mother. I was still smart, but I had become a showoff. I wanted to surprise everyone by climbing to the top of the Olympic World Records via stairs. but instead of going up I fell over and bumped my head down tumbling on stairs.

          Blood flowed from my head and I cried. My mother panicked. She wanted to get help, but she couldn’t speak French. Of course, my older brother couldn’t save me. Then an elder man passed by and saw our situation. He said, “Oh dear. Let’s go to hospital right away!”  My mother and my brother couldn’t understand his speaking, but I could understand it clearly. The man picked me up and started walking. My mother followed him with my brother. I was treated at the hospital and was saved. My mother was so impressed with his help and so repeated me the story many times.

          I became a grownup. I’m not smart for having bumped my head at that time. So, I’m sharpening up on my less-than-perfect walking competence. Sometimes, I look at the scar on my forehead in a mirror and remember that story. If she did not tell me it, I might have chosen a different path in my life. Because, if someone is in need, I feel I have to help them. So, the story must be a great gift from my mother. The scar is worth more than a gold medal.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

On the Bridge

Although it happened in the summer, I remember it in the winter. It was only a brief moment, But I dread every time I recall it.   Twenty years ago, I enjoyed a life of freedom. It was summer vacation and I was spending it in my hometown with my family. I had little to no responsibilities to speak of. I could go to bed anytime I wanted. Wake up anytime. Pass the time with books and movies. And sometimes go for a drive to the beach with my friends. At the time, I was a sophomore in university and had a bit of breathing room before entering the workforce. Simply put, I was like the grasshopper in Aesop's fable, time was all mine.   　　　 One hot, stifling night, as usual, I finished dinner that my mother had prepared, took a bath and went to bed. There was no air conditioner in my room, so I opened the window but kept the screen closed. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the buzzing sounds of a mosquito. It must have come in from somewhere. I had no choice b...
4 comments
Read more

I'm a Lonely Stranger Here

There were no people or cars on the road.  I wiped the sweat from my face  With the sleeve of my T-shirt. The sun burned on my skin. I took a sip of water that was left,  And regretted my rough plan.            It was summer and my boss and I had just arrived the day before at Noibai airport in Hanoi. It was the fifth time that we had come to Vietnam on business.             We had finished some work at the office then our cab took us to the hotel at 8 PM. We had a quick meal at the hotel restaurant, because my boss was tired from the long flight. After dinner, we parted ways with a promise to meet the next morning at 7 AM in the lobby.         　I was not as tired as he was. Instead, I wanted to exercise and move my body rather than rest it. The Hanoi Club where we were staying was a nice enough hotel, but it had no gym. Thus, I made plans to get up early in the morning and go jogging....
2 comments
Read more

My dream

   I have three dreams.     My first dream already came true. About 10 years ago, after the great East Japanese earthquake, I wrote on my facebook page. It was that time I decided to become a writer. I made a lot of Japanese readers since then and fortunately some of them became books. And some of them have been published on websites. I’m not famous, but I became a writer. The other day I was asked for my signature on one of my books for the first time! I may become famous soon, so I have to practice signing.      The second dream is small. I have a blog for my works. There are some novels that I wrote in Japanese. I want to put English introductions in them on my own, and distribute them by SNS. But my English is still a little poor, so I have to practice my writing too.      Finally, the third dream is a big one. I want to live in a foreign country, and teach Japanese, and write novels in English without translation. At that time,...
2 comments
Read more