Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 13

 

Angel of Okinawa; Chapter 13

© 2024 by Amber Wright

Life went on.

I couldn’t believe it actually could until the following evening when I was once again handing out my chilled rice puddings.

The day had been really hot, terribly humid, and overcast. My skin had been drenched in sweat beads the entire day as I worked outside the house and in the garden.

And, yes, I didn’t forget to milk my three milk goats Rosy, Posy and Dozy. They still demanded my time every morning and evening.

I was handing Wrigley a cup of rice pudding (can you believe, that guy got himself shot in the leg and has been here since early morning), and he was thanking me when his buddy (the one I met with Wrigley the day before) came up to check up on him.

“Say, Wrigley,” the guy said in an excited voice, “we took five places today, Kin, Kushi, Onna, Atsula and Nago. You should’ve seen them Japs drop down like little King O’Briens!”

(Later I would know that King O’Brien was a king of the little people in Ireland, so the legend had it.)

I stared up at the guy speaking. I didn’t like this kind of talk—him taking killing so lightly as if he actually enjoyed murdering those people, no matter how wrong they might be.

I handed him a chilled rice pudding from my wooden tray, and he caught me frowning. The guy immediately looked down, thanked me, and continued his talk with Wrigley in a quieter voice.

I silently took a deep breath and handed out my rice puddings until the tray was empty. Then, there was a number of orders for Meema’s orange punch.

I smiled. Meema was getting pretty famous for her homemade punch. That sounded good to me. I didn’t like to be the only one in the limelight. I felt more at ease when another shared the stage.

I loaded up my wooden tray once again, this time full of little glasses of orange tropical spiced punch. I smiled over at Meema who was tending to a more or less dead officer on a pallet.

“More orange orders, Meema.” I told her and raised my eyebrows. “You’re getting pretty famous.”

Meema smiled with a strain, and I knew she was thinking about all the deaths that had accumulated so far, especially little Phanny.

And, with my dreadful instinct, I knew she was scared about Hwang dying although she had never voiced it.

To tell you the truth, I was scared, too. For Hwang, for all of us and…for Derek, wherever he was at.

I was really praying hard for Derek like he asked me, and (if I should really say this) I hoped he would keep all of his limbs, etc.

I didn’t really want to marry a guy who had to be waited on hand and foot because, well…I didn’t want to be the boss. And if he was relying on me for everything, he’d feel pretty “under the thumb” so to speak.

The day passed and night came again.

I’ve tried so hard to shrug off the feelings of hopelessness. As I was trying to sleep, I decided to let my jumbled thoughts surface.

Let my jumbled brain ask who I really was.

My pallet was facing an opened window and the night breeze was gently swooping in—which I wished would stir up nicely into a brisk wind to cool us all down.

What I felt... I felt so alone. We all stayed so busy that we talked less to each other.

Meema tended the horribly wounded; I dressed the non serious wounds on our back porch and even those in the back yard in small tents; Horiya gardened whenever she could when she wasn’t doing schoolwork for she really wanted to learn all she could; Lei helped me milk in the mornings and evenings and watched Dai; Ruri cleaned the house and kept food on the table, and looked over Aunt Phan who had been staying with us since the funeral yesterday.

As I lay there, counting the stars through the open window, I asked myself, Who really are you, Angel? Just how much is there in you?

Do you really trust God like you say you do? Or do you just put on airs to make others think better of you?

Are you really a Christian? Do you really know that God lives in you, or do you just pretend He does?

If God really does live in you, Angel, trust the God in you to make your obstacle an opportunity.

I pondered on the last thought for a long while after. Make your obstacle an opportunity… I held my breath, a little excitedly.

I did know God lived inside me.

I knew it because when fear was there another something inside me told me things were going to be alright. I believed in that something that it would carry me through. No matter what, I believed it.

As to the question, Who am I? I haven’t quite figured that out yet.

I didn’t know exactly just what I was supposed to do. I only knew to do what I could do to help somebody day by day.

Maybe the question would never be answered.

Maybe I was to be kept wondering, but in any case I was to trust myself for God was trusting me to do the right thing.

And, true, there may have not been much greatness in me, but it didn’t matter. I would do great in little things.