By Mayumi Hamano
Winter. Onagawa, Miyagi. A small town facing the sea.
On March 11, 2011, an earthquake and tsunami struck the northeast of Japan. The sea entered the town. Mr. Takamatsu’s wife, Yoko, never came back.
Later, her phone was found. Inside it was a message that never reached him: Are you safe? I want to go home.
Three years later, Mr. Takamatsu made a decision. He would become a diver. He studied for a national license. He passed. Among the applicants who took the exam, he was the oldest.
Now he dives into the sea that took his wife. He has gone down 750 times. His gear weighs about thirty kilograms. Thirty-five meters. The light of his torch moves slowly through the dark water. Old tires. Broken plastic. Sea pens like white feathers growing from the sand.
Mr. Takamatsu moves forward little by little. His hand slides across the sea floor. He brushes away the sand, again and again, carefully, as if he does not want to miss even the smallest thing the sea might return.
“There was a message,” he says.
I want to go home.
“So I want to answer it.”
Now he is 69. He stands alone in his kitchen. He cooks dinner for himself. He says he’s used to it.
He says he’s used to it.
Mayumi Hamano is a Japanese writer. Her work focuses on small human stories within large events.
Image by Mido Makasardi courtesy of Pexels
Beautiful and heartbreaking
I love this piece. Thank you.
Phenomenal. Heart-breaking. There are tears in my eyes.