Come Back Home to Me, Where the Birds Fly Free

by Emma L.

Chapter 1

I walk down to the pier with my sister Eliza hand in hand. Our hands are sticky from the shaved ice we ate. The breeze hits our faces, letting the fresh smell of the stream fill our noses. It’s warm out still despite the fact that it is winter. Though that ought to be normal because we live in Waipahu, Hawaii. Today is December 7, 1942. It’s one year after Pearl Harbor, when our dad died. We sit down by the stream and let silent tears fall as we watch the sun set. We wait until about 4:30 and walk back to our house, which is about twenty minutes away by foot. We see our mom’s black 1940 LaSalle Convertible Sedan shining in the sun. We call it the “black bullet” because it goes the speed of a bullet and looks like one too. My dad and my mom bought it together so they could both drive to the base in the mornings. Sometimes it goes so fast we think it won’t be able to come back; it will just fly straight off the island. My dad was an air force officer and my mom builds airplanes. After my dad passed, they let my mom still work at the base. I still remember when we got the news.

It was a normal day like any other. Our parents both had off because it was Sunday, but my dad got called in early that morning to test some of the new planes at the naval base down at Pearl Harbor. He got a ride with a friend instead of taking the “black bullet.” We live down Waipahu Street, which is twelve minutes by car from Pearl Harbor. While we waited for my dad to arrive home, my mom cooked us a big steak dinner. I was fourteen and Eliza was sixteen; we sat around bored all day, wishing we had a radio. We went down to Waipahu Stream.

It’s our favorite place to go because we have had so many memories there. We splashed in the stream, waiting for our friends to come, except no one came. No one was there; usually the stream is where everyone hangs out. My best friends Rachel and Anna always come by; we have been friends for years. We could feel the tension in the air as if at any second the world could break. Then we saw the smoke. Not just gray chimney smoke like the ones from campfires. This smoke was black, and it was billowing out in the distance. My sister and I dashed back to the house, running the hardest we had ever run in our lives. We got back and my mother was crying. I had never seen my mom cry until that day; she is the toughest person I know. We were shocked. We asked what happened. She replied, “Your father passed this morning at the Pearl Harbor base.” We took in the news and we were startled.

“How?” my sister questioned gravelly.

“The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor,” my mom replied, as though she could not believe it herself. I ran to my room. I knew there was tension between the Japanese and the United States, but what I got from Mom and Dad’s dinner conversations was that they were going to invade California. Why here? Why? How bad was it if we could see smoke from Waihapu Stream? And I mean lots of smoke. Pearl Harbor is at least a good fifteen minutes by car from Waihapu Stream. I went to the yard. The smoke was even blacker now. It covered the sky, darkening it, not letting sunlight penetrate through. It was as if the clouds were painted black instead of white, giving them a cold feeling. I do not know why there was more smoke; maybe it was because it got worse or maybe because we were closer to Pearl Harbor. I remember running back to my room, tugging on my bracelet made of white rope. It has a little plate of wood on it. Carved in the wood is my name, Jo. I realized later that if my parents had both gone to work, my mother would have passed too, so I am awfully thankful for that. We got on with life, though, hard as it was. My mom returned to work at Hickam Field. She still builds planes, which is cool, and we still go to school.

Chapter 2

My mom made me and Eliza go to school this morning. School is such a bore. I go to Waipahu High School (yes, I know, my town has very original names). It was built four years ago like new. Math class. Ugh, I hate math. I sit in the back so I will be called on as little as possible. Today the sun shines through the window, providing warmth that makes me sleepy. I start daydreaming about running on the beach and feeling the ocean spray cool against my skin. I drum my pencil on the desk, trying to think of the answers for the packet we are doing. Too hard. I stare outside the window. My eyes catch this hummingbird flitting back and forth between the flowers growing outside. It’s a brilliant green and red. It’s unique and stands out. I like it. The little bird stands out, but keeps to itself, trying not to disturb the bees. Sometimes the bees start stinging the little bird, but it doesn’t mind so much; the bird just minds its own business. There is a noise; I’m pretty sure something is startling the bird. The tiny bird disappears for about fifteen minutes. I wait for it to come back. It does not for a while, so I doze off. The sound of my teacher’s voice explaining linear equations wakes me up, and I start paying attention again. I look out the window and see my hummingbird friend has come back. Except it is different. It isn’t flying around as carefree and happy as it was before. I wonder what has scared it. I ponder over the question while trying to do my impossible math.

Chapter 3

At the end of the day, I wait for Anna and Rachel but remember they are staying after school for math help. I walk home slowly, and I am glum because I cannot explore the world and my friends aren’t here. We tell each other everything. Sometimes, we make fun of the weird kids. Okay, I know that sounds weird, but everyone does it. There’s that one kid who smells, and then there is Miyoko Takahashi, who we all hate with a passion. She sits alone and no one talks to her because she is just plain weird. We hate all Japanese in general since they caused my dad and some of my friends’ family members to pass in Pearl Harbor. Instinctively, I pull my bracelet until I realize it isn’t there. I turn around, and I search frantically on the ground to find it. I just about give up until a voice quietly asks, “Are you okay?” I look up into dark brown eyes, and then I see red. I’m furious. It is because of her people that my dad died. They are like those bees I saw bugging the hummingbird pests are what they are. I want to run away, but I still need my bracelet. “I lost my bracelet,” I snap at her. “You probably stole it too,” I mutter quietly under my breath.

“I am sorry,” she replies, “and no, I did not steal it, but I will help you look for it,” she offers.

“I don’t need help from people like you,” I seethe and grind my teeth together. She looks hurt (not that I care) and walks away. I run to my house. I totally forget about the bracelet, and slam the front door in satisfaction. My face is flushed as I walk into the room. Mom asks how my day was; I say fine. I tell her I yelled at a Japanese girl.

Then my mom asks, “Why?”

“‘Cause I felt like it and I’m pretty sure she stole my bracelet,” I reply haughtily.

“That does not mean you can be mean to someone just from what they look like. What was her name?” my mother asks.

“Miyoko Takahashi,” I mutter. “She goes to my school and she’s such a loser.”

“Don’t talk like that! I did not raise you to be this way! I want you to buy her shaved ice tomorrow after school with your money and sit with her at lunch. Got it?!” my mom demands.

“Fine,” I sigh and stomp off to my bedroom.

Chapter 4

I try and walk to school the next day as slowly as possible. To my surprise, I still get to school on time. I see Miyoko walking through the entrance. I dart near the bushes until she’s inside. Who was I kidding?? I wasn’t going to eat with her or be seen with her, although I did have to use my money to buy shaved ice because my mom will check. I go through the day moping around, dreading the school day coming to a close. I dash out of school, and turn to take the route home, when Miyoko calls out, “Hey, I found your bracelet!”

“You found it?!” I gasp in disbelief. She hands me the bracelet and I immediately put it on and thank her. I feel a pang of regret for yelling at her. “Hey, do you wanna get some shaved ice?” I ask sincerely.

“Sure,” she replies apprehensively.

“Cool, let’s go,” I answer back. We walk to Joe’s Shaved Ice Shack, a little place near Waipahu Stream. I order my favorite, cherry ice on top of vanilla ice cream topped with condensed milk. Miyoko gets the same except with grape flavor instead of the cherry flavor. It cost fifty cents together, so I pay for it with this week’s allowance.

“Thanks,” Miyoko exclaims with gratitude.

“Welcome,” I reply. We walk in silence, and it isn’t an awkward silence. Our silence is enjoyable, peaceful; it is different and I like it. We are near the Middle Loch. “C’mon! Let’s explore!” I shout, ecstatic. She gets a bright look in her eyes.

“Okay!” she replies. We run into a jungle of palm trees.

“I’ll race you! Ready, set, go!” I joke and laugh. We run for a long time. She gets ahead of me after I get too tired and collapse in the sand. Then I get the best idea ever.

“Let’s build a shack out of driftwood and then we can come down here with our shaved ice as much as we want!” I happily suggest.

“Cool,” Miyoko quietly replies. We spend the afternoon collecting big pieces of driftwood, big leaves and some vines for our little shack. It is getting dark outside so we call it quits for the day and I walk back home.

“How was it?” my mom asks.

“Cool, she’s the awesomest friend ever,” I reply, grinning. My mom smiles as I walk to my room to sleep.

Chapter 5

The weeks go by quickly. I notice a change, though. I now sit with Miyoko during lunch and talk to her non-stop. But my best friends who aren’t anymore don’t even say hi. Every afternoon, Miyoko and I go to our shack and decorate it. When I see my old friends there, they don’t acknowledge us. Now I’m the weird one, but I don’t care anymore. Miyoko is a better friend than any of them can ever be. On a Sunday, Miyoko and I spend the morning putting the roof on our shack. We eat lunch and get some shaved ice. Then we walk back to the little shack. We sit eating the cool shaved ice when she quietly says, “I have to leave soon.”

“What do you mean? Are you moving?” I ask. A lot of my friends like Anna and Rachel have fathers in the army, navy, or air force and have to move a lot.

“Kind of, I think,” she informs me. “It’s more like we have to leave, not our choice.”

“Why?” I ask, sad.

“Because I’m Japanese, I’m strange and not like you,” she remarks.

“But you’re the bestest friend ever! You're not strange! You were born in America just like me, right?” I guess.

“Yes, but it’s the law, see,” she murmurs as she pulls out a flyer.

“This is only for California!” I shout, distraught.

“I know; however, my father served in Pearl Harbor except he passed away so they think my family is suspicious for sabotage,” she bursts out. I place my head in my knees and hug my knees with my arms. This doesn’t make sense. Mrs. Takahashi is super nice like my mom, and Miyoko’s older brother is also quiet but respectful.

“What can I do to help?” I begin.

“Well, we can’t take anything we can’t carry,” she frets. I gasp. I will help her no matter what. I pull her with me, and we run to her house. Most of it is packed up, surprisingly.

“When are you leaving?” I demand to know.

“Thursday,” Miyoko replies meekly. Thursday?! So soon, why, so soon. Four days is all I have left with my best friend.

“We have no time to lose,” I say curtly and start gathering other things to pack. “What are you doing with your house and car?” I ask.

“Selling it to some stranger who will give us five hundred dollars for the house and one hundred dollars for our car,” Miyoko’s mom somberly replies.

“But that’s practically nothing!” I exclaim furiously. The looks in their eyes tell me it is all they can manage, so I stay quiet. Days pass by quickly, and on Thursday I stay with Miyoko. Then they come. FBI agents in trucks start to load up the Takahashis’ stuff and leave the place empty. Miyoko’s mother gives me a warm hug and boards the truck with a fearful face. Her brother keeps his head high and sits next to his mother and holds her hand. Miyoko gives me a big hug and I give her my bracelet. “So you can remember me,” I say. She has tears in her eyes as the truck leaves. I wave solemnly, and I do not see her again.  

Chapter 6

4 Years Later

I am training with my mom now to build airplanes. It’s fun and adventurous, knowing we are helping our country. It’s hard work but it definitely passes the time. I instinctively reach to my wrist but remember my bracelet is gone. I miss Miyoko every day, and I can’t bear going back to the shack. It’s been four years and I am nineteen, though I don’t feel like it. Sometimes I wonder if what our country is doing is right. We do fight for democracy, but Miyoko, who’s American, isn’t getting to say much. I don’t really know what’s happening to her in California. I just know it isn’t right, but I can’t do anything except wait. I now know everyone is equal and should be treated that way. Later today, I get word that they are letting the Japanese come back home. I’m hoping she will come back here. I really do.

Chapter 7

I wait at Miyoko’s house during the weekend. I realize the guy who bought the house has abandoned it, so I tidy up the place while I wait. I spot Miyoko and her mom trudging up the road. “I wonder where her brother went,” I think to myself. They both look skinnier, like they haven’t had a substantial meal in forever. Good thing I brought some cheeseburgers and fries, though now they are soggy and not so good. Well, it will have to do. I will try and go get some groceries for the house. Miyoko spots me and a huge grin lights up on her face. I give her a huge hug and hug her mom, too. Not only are they skinnier, they are filthy; dirt streaks their faces and clothes. Miyoko has my bracelet on instead of the white rope I remember it having; it is a dark brown and black, and on the wood next to my name is hers.

“I am going around back to see the garden,” Miyoko’s mom says, somberly breaking the silence, and starts walking to the backyard.

“Are you okay?” I ask Miyoko.

“Yes and no,” Miyoko replies, not with her usually cheerful self.

“Where is your brother?” I ask tentatively.

“He’s dead.” Miyoko falters as though she can’t believe it herself. “He served in the 442nd regiment and fought in Europe for America. He fought the Nazis.”

“Oh,” was all my voice could say. She’d lost her brother and her dad. I lost my dad and that was hard but I can’t imagine losing Eliza, too. I think to myself, “He died fighting for democracy when in reality he got none.” I am mad but do not want to show it. “Let’s get some food and go to the shack. I’ll leave this for your mom,” I offer, setting down the bag of food.

“Let’s go,” Miyoko whispers.

“I see you kept the bracelet,” I say.

“Yeah, it’s what kept me going at camp, I planted, farmed and went to school. Waited for my brother, but he never came. That’s when I carved my name next to yours.”

We walk in silence again. I am not as mad anymore. I am happy that Miyoko is back and Miyoko is, too, but I feel sad. I didn’t know half of what happened to her in California but I am not going to press her for details. We stop at Joe's Shaved Ice Shack and get the usual. Then we head down to our shack. It is fine except for a couple cobwebs here and there. I clean it off with a branch. We don’t sit inside, though; we sit by the stream. We sit in silence. I’m grieving for Miyoko’s losses, though most are untold. I can feel that there are many, and Miyoko’s grieving for everything she lost. We let silent tears fall as we watch the sun set…