by Erika Toguchi

It was the year 2000. I went to the Asabano Elementary School in Saitama, Japan. Every day was the same. I would wake up and go to school. After school was the best part–playing with my friends.

Sure, there was recess, but the confinement and restrictions made it another class for me. But once that school bell rang, I would be out of class and the first one on the playground. My friends and I played until they had to go. Once all of them left, I walked home. My house was not too far away, only a ten-minute walk.

One day everything went great until after school when all my friends had to go home. I wanted to play so badly, so I stayed by myself after school.

I went to the tetherball court, where I’d had hours of fun hitting that ball as hard as I could to spin it around. But it was just not the same playing a two-player game by myself. After twenty rounds of beating myself at the game, I needed a new opponent, and there was no one in sight.

So I moved on to a new game–basketball. Basketball is one of the most fun games around–with a group of people. Basketball is not a one-person sport, especially if that one person has asthma problems. I got tired within minutes.

And then I saw it. It was perfect. Something you needed only one person for–the swing!

Swinging was the thing for me. I swung for about ten minutes until I realized it was not as fun as when people watch you swing higher and higher until you get to a point they never dreamed of reaching. So I discovered something new: jumping off in midair to get some major air. It was awesome–the thrill of flying for the first 2 seconds. I flew through the air and landed with a nice big “thump.”

This went on for a while–the great cool breeze and the sand in the air when I landed–until it happened. I went up so fast and far I could not control myself. I lost my balance. I was flying; I could not do anything until I reached the ground. There was still a thump, but the wrong kind of thump.

I lay there, conscious but in pain, and no one around to help me. I tried to scream, but all that came out was air. I tried to get up; moving only made the pain worse. Cold, tired, and hurt, I wondered, “Could this be the end of me?”

I lay there until I fell unconscious.

I woke up in a sudden rush. I was in a white room that looked like a hospital, and it was. It was cold, and I could feel the pain in my ankle. The nurses were screaming something as I tried to get up, the doctor fastening me down.

I fell unconscious again. I awoke and could see my parents over my bed. As soon as I opened my eyes they asked, “What happened? Who brought you here? How did all this come together?”

I said in a few words, “I do not know,” then went back to sleep.

Eventually I was released from the hospital, and it has been a few years now since my accident. Scars of my ankle surgery are the only signs that remain from the incident.

Still the mystery of how I was saved goes through my head. The nurses said I was just left in the entrance of the hospital. They did not see anyone near. What could have happened? How was I saved? How did I live that day?

I could feel my guardian angel protecting me. Many years I contemplated it until I was certain, for no one came out to get the award for saving me. I know my rescuer was none other than my guardian angel, protecting me and helping me in my time of need.