Posted by: skyward | September 21, 2008

Idyllic Landscape

Let’s call him Steve.  He was a rock musician with deep blue eyes.  

He taught me English.  Through his music, to be more accurate.  Sure, English was a required subject at school, but I learned little from textbooks and worksheets.  Steve became my teacher.  The past perfect tense.  Gerunds.  Infinitives.  I absorbed them all from him.  With my seventh grade passion and zeal, I learned all the lyrics by heart, and crafted letters he’d never read.  Years later, when I passed the Bar exam on my first try, I genuinely and sincerely believed I owed it to Steve.

Facing the computer screen, I hear the long-forgotten voice.  And oh, those blue eyes!  The Internet brings back the good times.  Suddenly, I’m a thirteen-year-old in a crisp, navy blue uniform, carrying a tennis racket.  Surrounded by sober-suited businessmen, I stand on a train station’s platform, awaiting the 7:23 commuter train to an all-girls junior high.

I begin to see more and more  —– just like a faded photo gradually regains its colors. 

The posters that adorned my bedroom walls.  The hamburger shop my friends and I would victoriously venture out to on the last day of the exams. (Priding itself as a province of well-bred misses, our school had a policy prohibiting students from going to these places after school.  We simply ignored the rule.)  The endless chatter punctuated by girlish giggles.  Mr. T, a P.E. teacher who took home a bag full of chocolates from his admirers on Valentine’s Day.  Mr. K, a history teacher who blushed as he reminisced about his college sweetheart.  Sports Day, when we all shouted “banzai” three times in unison, into the cloudless September sky.

I’m filled with longing for this idyllic landscape.  (Ironically, I recognize how idyllic it really was, only from the vantage point of adulthood.)  Life was full of promise.  Or so it seemed.

A few more clicks.  I rediscover Steve with unkept, shoulder-length gray hair, smiling faintly underneath an oversized hat.  In this recent video clip, he is performing a song I once loved.   But the spark has gone.  Utterly gone.  “Sad.  Desperately sad,”  one visitor wrote on the site’s message board.  Similar messages follow.  Many were written by women about my age.  Freckles.  Ponytails.  Pink lip gloss.  They, too, had been adolescents.  Don’t you wish you could go back in time?   Someone poses the question. 

 Yes, I ache to go back. 

Then  I realize it’s almost time to pick up the kids at school.  Logging out, I grab the car keys and run out.  What should I cook for dinner?   Daniel requested curry rice, but I haven’t had the chance to soak rice yet.  We have violin lessons tomorrow.  I hope the kids will cooperate and put in extra practice time tonight.  Oh, is the freeway traffic horrible again?   Forgetting about the one-time heart-throb, I return to motherhood.

I sigh.  I ponder.  But ultimately, I embrace my life   —- here and now.  This is where I belong.



  1. ダニエルくん


  2. これからも がんばりますね。(でも 日本語はむずかしいね!)

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