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Jul. 3rd, 2008 01:45 amThis is not my story.
This is a story that I heard one night at Solomon's Porch church from a man who'd heard it from one of his college professors.
I might have forgotten some details since I heard it two years ago, but I can't forget the general gist of the tale.
One day the professor decided that instead of a lecture, he would tell his class about an important even from his past. It went something like this:
I was seven years old. It was a warm afternoon, and I was in the bath. I could hear my mother singing in the kitchen. The blinds were swinging slightly in the breeze. I was laying face-up in the warm water, and I felt safe and comfortable.
Suddenly, it was dark.
It was pitch-black. There was no light. I didn't know where I was, so I tried to get up. I hit my head on something. I felt all around me. There were walls on all sides, and if I sat up too fast, I hit my head again. There was no way out. I tried calling for my mother and father, but no one came.
After a while, I felt around all the edges again and then I realized that I could feel a softer spot. I pulled at the floor until I began to form a hole, and then I crawled out under the "wall". It was the bathtub. It had flipped upside-down over me, trapping me underneath.
It was still completely dark. I tried walking to where I thought the kitchen was, but there was nothing there. I walked all through the house, but there was nothing. I cried for my mother and father. No one answered. Finally, I laid down in the front yard to die.
A long time passed. I didn't die. I felt thirsty, so finally I got up and began walking through the darkness. I walked and walked.
Eventually, far, far off in the distance, I saw a faint pinprick of light, so I began walking toward it. I thought that it couldn't be far, but I never seemed to get any closer to the light. I walked for hours until I collapsed near the river.
I came to when someone picked me up. I could hear them speaking, but I was limp in their arms. They took me to their camp in a boat. I realized that the small pinprick of light I'd seen was actually a huge spotlight that I'd seen from very far away.
The bathtub that had accidentally flipped over me had saved my life.
When I was seven, in 1945, I lived in Nagasaki. When I was seven, they dropped the atom bomb.
This is a story that I heard one night at Solomon's Porch church from a man who'd heard it from one of his college professors.
I might have forgotten some details since I heard it two years ago, but I can't forget the general gist of the tale.
One day the professor decided that instead of a lecture, he would tell his class about an important even from his past. It went something like this:
I was seven years old. It was a warm afternoon, and I was in the bath. I could hear my mother singing in the kitchen. The blinds were swinging slightly in the breeze. I was laying face-up in the warm water, and I felt safe and comfortable.
Suddenly, it was dark.
It was pitch-black. There was no light. I didn't know where I was, so I tried to get up. I hit my head on something. I felt all around me. There were walls on all sides, and if I sat up too fast, I hit my head again. There was no way out. I tried calling for my mother and father, but no one came.
After a while, I felt around all the edges again and then I realized that I could feel a softer spot. I pulled at the floor until I began to form a hole, and then I crawled out under the "wall". It was the bathtub. It had flipped upside-down over me, trapping me underneath.
It was still completely dark. I tried walking to where I thought the kitchen was, but there was nothing there. I walked all through the house, but there was nothing. I cried for my mother and father. No one answered. Finally, I laid down in the front yard to die.
A long time passed. I didn't die. I felt thirsty, so finally I got up and began walking through the darkness. I walked and walked.
Eventually, far, far off in the distance, I saw a faint pinprick of light, so I began walking toward it. I thought that it couldn't be far, but I never seemed to get any closer to the light. I walked for hours until I collapsed near the river.
I came to when someone picked me up. I could hear them speaking, but I was limp in their arms. They took me to their camp in a boat. I realized that the small pinprick of light I'd seen was actually a huge spotlight that I'd seen from very far away.
The bathtub that had accidentally flipped over me had saved my life.
When I was seven, in 1945, I lived in Nagasaki. When I was seven, they dropped the atom bomb.
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