"Do you think we could see our daughter and her family once more before going to Okinawa?" I asked Kinya. He looked at me and smiled sympathetically.
"With this summer heat, there's no way you'd last the train trip. Now they could come here..."
But I knew I couldn't ask them to make an hour's journey with a toddler. They'd have to offer to come themselves.
When my cell rang Sun. night, it was Emi, and I was so excited, I fumbled, didn't know what I was doing, pushed all the wrong buttons--you'd think it a simple matter of answering the phone--but I managed to mess it up. Emi heard me clicking up a storm and told me she'd call back. This time, I picked it up just fine. Whew. Did I feel silly.
Could they come visit in the morning, she asked--they'd let my grandson nap in the car on the way home. I told Kinya and hunted up all the sketches of my grandson I could find to give him...
Anyway, we had a wonderful time, altho' there was practically nothing in the house. Kinya left one little nail in the wall so we could leave the special Christmas collage up of my grandson. We had the ice cream sandwiches they brought, and my grandson gave his grandparents "high five's" when saying goodbye. I invited the family to come visit in Okinawa, especially during winter vacation, to get away from the terrible cold here.
After everyone was gone, I checked e-mail. One from my sister said excitedly she'd asked the church in Okinawa to pray I'd be able to see my daughter's family before moving! My militant Buddhist friend told me she didn't want to pray to an imaginary God (this is what she believes Christians do) but wanted to hear real answers; "don't you?" I do, and I do.
