A day before the previous chapter: 

I watched in stunned surprise and silence as my calm and organized household became a whirlwind of activity. Dad had driven me home from the hospital yesterday, and this morning we were packing our bags for the trip to Dallas. Hank had sustained a concussion, broken leg, and had broken several bones in his left foot. Normally, the hospital would have kept him for a few days, but he was being transferred to a hospital farther inland, as a safety precaution for the tsunami. He was currently recovering from an emergency operation. But we would pick him up and drop him off at the other hospital today before we left for the airport tomorrow.

Tomorrow. I didn’t want to think about it, the day that I would leave Mommy and Hank behind and go to a strange new place to treat my foot. I hated new, scary things.

“Daddy? Is our home going to be destroyed like the homes we see on television sometimes?” I asked as Dad placed bags of sand around the foundation of the house.

“No, honey. Our house is too far inland for major destruction, thank goodness for that. But there is expected to be some very serious flooding, from the tsunami and a storm, which is why I want to move as much stuff upstairs as I can, and try to prevent a lot of water from entering the house with the sandbags,” he reassured me. “Why don’t we go upstairs so you can pack too? I can’t guarantee all of your things will be perfectly safe, so take everything extremely important and necessary to you.”

“But everything in my room is extremely important to me!” I wailed.

“I know,” Dad replied. “Try to take your favorite things, as well as your favorite clothing items. Has your pain medicine kicked in yet?”

“I guess I’m feeling a bit better,” I replied, though my foot was still throbbing. I didn’t want my father to be worried more than he needed to be. “It still hurts-” I cringed, “-a lot. But I’m okay.” I tried to smile encouragingly but it turned out more as a grimace.

“It’s okay to still be hurt,” Dad said, as his strong arms carried me up the stairs to my room where he helped me get comfortable on the bed.

“Okay,” he began. “So what should we pack first: clothes, or toys?”

“Clothes,” I said, mostly because I knew the toys and other belongings required many decisions that I didn’t want to make. Dad was very funny, which distracted me from the destruction that I knew would be unleashed on our lives in a few days as well as the pain in my foot. He asked silly questions, like if I would need my ski suit in Texas and even tried to put on my favorite pink sweatshirt with a picture of a cute bunny on the front. When it only went over his head, I laughed so hard. One way or the other, we managed to fill half of a large suitcase with the clothing I wanted to take with me when we went to Dallas. There was a sizable pile of giveaway items as well and then the sad little pile still in my closet that I wished I could take, but knew that I did not absolutely need. Dad promised me that maybe a few extra items would fit, but not to worry, as my room would probably be okay.

As we moved onto my special items, I looked around the room and realized that I wanted to take it all. Trust. I reminded myself. Trust Dad, Maira. Dad said that the upstairs should be fairly safe, and besides, the safety of my family and myself is more important than these items. And trust God too.

Taking a deep breath, I decided that I wanted the box of notes from Mommy over the years, photos I had of our family, my “diary” (where I really only drew pictures) and my flamingo stuffed animal (named Flo) that I had had since I was one.

“There!” Dad finished stuffing the last of the extra clothes into the suitcase and zipped it shut. “Your favorite clothes and toys are all packed. We need to leave for the hospital in two hours. Let’s pack your backpack with a change of clothes so you can change into your pajamas without opening your suitcase tomorrow, if you want to sleep on the plane and your regular clothes are uncomfortable.” He hopped up from the floor. “Now, I need to pack. Want to come to my room with me? Or to the living room so you can rest on the couch?”

“Um, can I stay here?” I asked. I wanted to enjoy my last minutes in my room, for a long time at least, in peace.

“Sure,” he responded. “Let me know if you need anything.” He closed the door behind him softly.

I glanced out my window at the sunny sky of Oahu and sighed. It was hard to imagine that a tsunami was coming in only a day. But it was hard to imagine anything in my life was actually happening. One moment, my world had been perfectly fine, until Mom had tripped on the stairs, and in a matter of five hours, I had injured my foot, learned of the tsunami, and she had gotten worse and worse. Today had been a large blur of pain and packing. Then, there were the good things about the situation, like Hank for example. He had been so rude and cross with me, probably because he was worried about Mom, just earlier yesterday morning. But since then I had seen a completely different side of him — one who was concerned about me, and wanted to do everything he could to help. I’d also seen the side of Dad I liked, the tender, gentle, funny and kind side, though I knew he was still worried about my brother.

I thought longer than I meant to, and soon, Dad was at my door calling, “Maria! We need to go! Are you ready?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I answered.

He scooped me up into his arms and carried me down the stairs right into the backseat of our car, then set a pair of crutches I had obtained yesterday beside me.

“Ready for our next big adventure?” Dad asked, and I gave an uncertain nod. “I know it’s scary,” he continued, “and I’m scared too. I’m worried for your mother and our baby, and I am worried that the house and car will be damaged. I’m worried, but also thankful for you and Hank, Maria. The police said you were lucky to be alive. I’m sure it isn’t luck, but your guardian angels.”

I nodded again.

“You two are amazing. I can’t imagine what I’d have done if I’d lost you both yesterday, while your mother fights for her life also,” his voice broke. “But we must hope for the best and try to be positive about the situation.

You know?” he paused as if teaching me like one of his students. “We didn’t want to escape a tsunami, or have an accident, but at least we are all here. Alive, and safe. Maria, you get to ride on a plane, which I know you enjoy. This is so overwhelming for all of us, and I’m just trying to take it one step at a time. Right now, we need to go,” he pressed his foot on the gas pedal, and I was once again headed into the unknown.

*

We arrived at Hank’s hospital room an hour later, after much traffic and an intimidating waiting room. Yet as I entered the room, nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me. No matter how impatient I had been to see my brother, I immediately wished I was far, far away.

This wasn’t the brother I knew. The legs that had earned blue ribbons in track were heavily bandaged and one was encased in a brace. Hank had run fast, but I didn’t think he would be doing that much anymoren. Or walking, or carrying me, because the arms that had once tossed me into the air with a joyful strength were now attached to wires and needles. I assumed the hospital would help him, not try to hurt him more.

“Daddy, what’s that thing on Hank’s hand? And why’s he attached to all those machines? Why are the wires poking him? It looks uncomfortable,” I voiced my concerns.

But Daddy wasn’t listening. He stood next to me, with his head bowed and eyes closed. He seemed to be praying.

I looked away from Hank, hoping that it was just a dream. In a few minutes, I’d wake up and be in my soft bed, with my stuffies surrounding me and Mommy and Daddy sleeping just down the hall. The experience had all the elements of my bad dreams, the gruesome scene, panic in my chest, no one responding to my cries for help. I pinched myself, because wasn’t that what they always did in the books? But nothing happened. I was here, it was real and I was very, very helpless.

A beeping machine displayed lists of numbers and dots and dashes, more complicated than I cared to understand, just like this whole situation.

What had happened to my brother? 

It was then that I truly realized how dangerous yesterday could have been. I knew of course, that I could have died, but seeing Hank, injured so badly, made everything more real. The accident wasn’t just one of my wild nightmares. It had happened, and this time, the nightmare wasn’t over.

*

The following day: 

“What!?” My father exclaimed. “Only one seat reserved? But look, I have two tickets and two reservations saved!” He shoved his phone along with the proper paperwork over the counter and onto the agent’s desk. It was early Wednesday morning, and we had left our home before even the birds brightened the dawn with their song. The sun was just breaking over the horizon as we pulled into the airport parking lot. Our 6:00 am flight had been delayed by an hour the night before, so we’d arrived at the time we would’ve been flying.  Still, I was terribly sleepy.

“Sir,” she said, grabbing her glasses so she could see what he was showing her, “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding because of an error that our website made. With the bombardment of booking flights we received as soon as the news of the tsunami was out, a glitch occurred in the system, meaning it displayed the flight you booked for your daughter, Maria Saito, as an open seat when really, someone had already booked it.”

My breath caught in my throat. My seat! Someone else would sit in my seat. A pang of dread hit my body with the force of a locomotive. I wobbled and lost my grip on one of my crutches as I reached to grab Dad’s hand in a desperate grip. Now I won’t be able to travel to Texas, I thought. I will be left behind, and what about my foot? I won’t be able to leave for the tsunami! What if I lose all my family?  My breathing accelerated and my adrenaline started to pump.

“Daddy!” I exclaimed, no longer able to contain my panicked emotions. “Daddy! What will happen to me? What about my foot?!”

“Shhh, Maria,” he quieted me, and reached for the fallen crutch. “Is there any possible way my daughter could board that flight?”

The attendant looked at us. “Every seat is booked. But she needs medical attention, right? The only way would be if someone gave up their seat and was willing to schedule a flight tomorrow.”

“Please try to figure out if anyone is willing. We would appreciate that so much,” Dad told her. “I wish we could just cancel it and then reschedule, but we have an appointment for her tomorrow,” he gestured towards my foot, wrapped in a gauze bandage, which did not prevent passerby from seeing the underlying bandage covered in blood. There were a few minor cuts that the doctor hadn’t stitched up that were bleeding a bit from when I had bumped my foot getting out of the car this morning.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, walking over to the next station so she could speak to the attendant there and waving us towards the waiting area. Dad placed me in a chair, then plopped down next to me.

“What are we going to do?” he moaned.

Just then, his phone rang. He snapped alert and fished around in his backpack for it. “Hello?…yes, this is Dr. Saito. My wife came in yesterday morning.” I heard a voice at the other end of the line, but couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. Dad drummed his fingers nervously against the armrest of the chair. “Oh!” he gasped, then stood up and moved a few steps away to give himself privacy from me. I watched his face change from surprised to angry to sad and then to despair. His next expression seemed like a combination of all of these, and it told me the thing I feared most might come true.

He walked back towards me and I could barely make out him saying, “Yes, yes, please keep me posted. I wish I could be there with her. I don’t care how much it costs, just go with the surgery if you think it is best. Please, take good care of her, and tell her we all miss her. Yes….okay, thank you, goodbye.”

Slowly, he walked closer.

“What is it?!” I demanded.

“Mommy’s not doing too well,” he sighed. “They may have to do hip surgery in a few days to allow her bone to heal properly so she is not permanently disabled from walking. To make things worse, the baby is threatening to come soon. It’s two months early. What are the chances of them both surviving?” he questioned, his voice heavy with emotion. I tried vainly to find something to be glad for, something to hold onto emotionally, but I found nothing. My whole life seemed to be falling about me in shambles. What would I do if I lost my mom, my new sibling, good care for my foot, possibly my home, and the fun personalities of my dad and brother? I don’t know! What will happen to me now? I wondered, as tears slowly worked their way down my cheeks.

Jesus, please heal my Mommy. I need her. I NEED HER!! And I need to be able to board this flight too. Can you help us? I prayed. I didn’t know if it would work, because I had been praying for Mommy all this time, with no result. But I couldn’t give up yet. I remembered Mommy once saying that Jesus cared even about sparrows when they got hurt. And certainly, Mommy was much more than a sparrow.

It was a mistake to recall that, because as soon as I let one memory of my mother loose inside my head, it seemed to multiply and grow and open the door for many more. Mommy’s hands, smooth and graceful, brushing my hair every morning. Mommy’s smile, how it lit up Daddy’s face too, and seemed to lighten everyone’s mood. Mommy letting me help her bake as I stood on a stool in the kitchen. Mommy singing a silly song as she pulled weeds with me in the garden. Mommy helping Hank with homework, asking how his day was, and giving him a big hug as soon as he came from school. Mommy’s voice, calling me her little “Kolea” because I was born in the winter just as the real migrating Kolea birds started to arrive. The last time I’d heard Mommy’s voice, she was screaming, clutching her stomach as she fell on the stairs. No, that wasn’t right. As Daddy had carried her out to the car, she had seen Hank and I by the door. “Maria. Hank,” she’d gasped, her face twisting in pain. “I… love… you.” And then she was carried away.

Go away, go away! I told the memories. The last thing my mother said to me in person, probably until I returned from Texas, was “I love you,” whispered and broken. And I, sobbing, didn’t say anything back. She wouldn’t have been hurting if I hadn’t needed breakfast. Maybe she would have stayed in bed. Was this all my fault? How could she love me?

I knew what I would do. I would make sure we could visit the hospital where Mommy was staying as soon as we got back to Hawaii. I would make a card and pick her favorite yellow flowers to make her smile, and then I’d apologize for possibly causing the accident. For every time I’d disobeyed her, for every time I needed something extra. Because I now saw how much she really meant to me – to all of us.

I hoped and instinctively knew that Mommy didn’t blame me, but I couldn’t be sure. And Daddy was no help now, too absorbed in his own hurt. Could it really have been my fault? Now, a questioning guilt wormed its way into my heart along with the fear and hurt.

I tried to believe that I would visit Mommy soon. I’d tell her I loved her back, and I’d make her smile. Oh, her beautiful smile, like the sun bursting forth into new day. The petals of a flower slowly opening, dazzling viewers with their simple beauty. What wouldn’t I give for that joy and hope? To see it again in Mommy, and in my family.

But  a terrible nagging doubt kept creeping into my mind. What if, what if….I could hardly even think the words, even though I knew they might be true. What if I’ll never see Mommy again?