BY SAKURA YONEYAMA (staff writer)
when i was born,
my grandparents rejoiced
another yoneyama child
to share the bloodline and love
the sky smiled that morning
5:34 am
and outside, the pink sakura flowers rained down onto the pavement
but my grandparents’ joy
was cut short
when at the immature age of two,
i was shipped in a cardboard box and dropped off in the USA
and so every few months,
my grandma and grandpa and grandma
sent the same cardboard box
filled with japanese goods and foods
i'm sure my parents promised my grandparents
that their children would be true japanese citizens
that their identities would bear no american stamp
but that imagined promise was quickly broken
as english quickly became my sister and i’s preferred language
and while our japanese came out broken and fragmented
our english was rapid-fire, flawless
i wonder if they were ever sad,
overwhelmed by waves of grief and loss
when their grandchildren would come home
and could only speak to them in accented, simple japanese
when their grandchildren couldn’t read japanese books
when their grandchildren spoke to each other in an alien language, one they would never truly understand
i wonder if they were ever angry,
overwhelmed by waves of rage and indignation
when their grandchildren would visit
and couldn’t recognize japanese culture
when their grandchildren couldn’t understand japanese customs
when their grandchildren preferred to do it the “american” way
but i also wonder
if they were ever filled with hope,
overjoyed with waves of hope and pride
when their grandchildren would come by
and speak to each other in english
when their grandchildren unknowingly had planted roots in a new culture
when their grandchildren became pioneers of the family