Wandering Ashes of a Dream
by Elahe Nassr
by Elahe Nassr
Once upon a time, in the land of the rising sun, I existed no more.
Born on a tiny island, every morning I was woken by the whisper of the sapphire blue Seto Naikai. But that was not where I died. Life was not all that fancy. A half-empty school, a tiny library, and a shokudo that was almost always closed. We had the most amazing lemon orchards. As we ran through the lemon trees, beautiful memories were made one after another. There, happiness was like an old tradition that we all practiced. I remember I had my first kiss behind those trees. That was the only kiss I ever had. In this, our little world. We had enough joy, though, enough love.
What can I say? I was a young boy blinded by his many ambitions. Our little island wasn’t big enough for my dreams. Or, at least, that's what I thought. All I dreamed of was to become a musician. To sit among those very trees and see them alluringly dancing with the wind. Dancing to my songs. Had I known there would be no return, I’d have never dreamed.
I had to take the earliest train. The sky was as dark as my destiny when I left. I was about to board the train when my mom gave me one last hug. “Oh, Tetsuya! Promise your mother you’ll come back soon,” she said, wiping away her tears. I held her frail hands. They had their usual citrus scent.
“Mama, I will make you proud.” I lied to her, without even knowing it myself. The train departed. We kept waving until she receded into the horizon. I sat on one of the few empty seats. My big, stubborn smile refused to leave and so did my excitement. My fellow travelers, clearly annoyed by the never-ending noises of the rail, kept staring at me. However much they were curious about my jolly mood, I was indifferent about them. I kept dreaming about all the new experiences that the future was bearing for me. All the songs I was going to play. And the love of my life. Oh, the love of my life. I pictured her in my mind, and the train became empty. It was only the two of us. Holding her hands, I sensed a familiar citrus scent. I began to play our secret song, and she began to dance. As she twirled in my imagination, the train stopped. I got off, letting go of all the thoughts about the new chapter of my life, a chapter that was never opened.
All I brought was my violin and a small suitcase that carried my dreams. I was finally in Hiroshima. I watched people walking around. Some laughing, some frowning. Cafes were being opened, one after another. The school wasn’t far from the station, so I decided to walk, enjoying the views of this new city. People were already sitting in cafes, enjoying their breakfast. A beautiful day had just begun.
I walked across the Aioi bridge and arrived, at last, at the school entrance. Students were walking about, so with my heart pounding with joy. I entered, looking at the azure sky with so much hope. I saw the Little Boy coming, shamelessly, to take away my youthful dreams.
I didn’t get enough of a life to become a musician. To fall in love. Or to smell, once again, the citrus scent of my mother’s hands. I am now wandering ashes in a burning school, beaten by the lashes of the wind and rain.
Born on a tiny island, every morning I was woken by the whisper of the sapphire blue Seto Naikai. But that was not where I died. Life was not all that fancy. A half-empty school, a tiny library, and a shokudo that was almost always closed. We had the most amazing lemon orchards. As we ran through the lemon trees, beautiful memories were made one after another. There, happiness was like an old tradition that we all practiced. I remember I had my first kiss behind those trees. That was the only kiss I ever had. In this, our little world. We had enough joy, though, enough love.
What can I say? I was a young boy blinded by his many ambitions. Our little island wasn’t big enough for my dreams. Or, at least, that's what I thought. All I dreamed of was to become a musician. To sit among those very trees and see them alluringly dancing with the wind. Dancing to my songs. Had I known there would be no return, I’d have never dreamed.
I had to take the earliest train. The sky was as dark as my destiny when I left. I was about to board the train when my mom gave me one last hug. “Oh, Tetsuya! Promise your mother you’ll come back soon,” she said, wiping away her tears. I held her frail hands. They had their usual citrus scent.
“Mama, I will make you proud.” I lied to her, without even knowing it myself. The train departed. We kept waving until she receded into the horizon. I sat on one of the few empty seats. My big, stubborn smile refused to leave and so did my excitement. My fellow travelers, clearly annoyed by the never-ending noises of the rail, kept staring at me. However much they were curious about my jolly mood, I was indifferent about them. I kept dreaming about all the new experiences that the future was bearing for me. All the songs I was going to play. And the love of my life. Oh, the love of my life. I pictured her in my mind, and the train became empty. It was only the two of us. Holding her hands, I sensed a familiar citrus scent. I began to play our secret song, and she began to dance. As she twirled in my imagination, the train stopped. I got off, letting go of all the thoughts about the new chapter of my life, a chapter that was never opened.
All I brought was my violin and a small suitcase that carried my dreams. I was finally in Hiroshima. I watched people walking around. Some laughing, some frowning. Cafes were being opened, one after another. The school wasn’t far from the station, so I decided to walk, enjoying the views of this new city. People were already sitting in cafes, enjoying their breakfast. A beautiful day had just begun.
I walked across the Aioi bridge and arrived, at last, at the school entrance. Students were walking about, so with my heart pounding with joy. I entered, looking at the azure sky with so much hope. I saw the Little Boy coming, shamelessly, to take away my youthful dreams.
I didn’t get enough of a life to become a musician. To fall in love. Or to smell, once again, the citrus scent of my mother’s hands. I am now wandering ashes in a burning school, beaten by the lashes of the wind and rain.