Time flies.

This is the end of April. Time really flies. The pain in my broken ankle is going away, though walking sometimes causes stabbing pain. I wish the pain away!

I'll see the doctor after these holidays are over. I'll have an X ray of my leg. I hope it will show that everything is all right with my ankle.

At the end of every month I add up steps of my pedometer and calculate the distance I walk in a month.

(pedometer is an instrument for measuring distance that has to be pushed by someone walking---by Longman )

In February I walked 12km in total. In March I walked 85km. And this month I did walk 112km! This shows I'm getting better. I am enough better to walk around with the help of a stick.

Oh, how I wish I'd be enough better to enjoy hiking in the mountains!

a young Taiwanese lady

After having lunch on the shore of Lake Yamanakako, we drove to Lake Kawaguchiko. It is one of my favorite lakes.

On the morning of January 2, 2003, when I opened the window of my apartment, I suddenly wanted to go somewhere distant. I decided to go to Lake Kawaguchiko. I got into a train for Otsuki, and changed cars there for Kawaguchiko.

It was very cold and the road was frozen at Kawaguchiko. I wanted to stay much longer at Lake Kawaguchiko. So, I decided to put up at an inn which the information center introduced me.

From the window of that small inn I was able to enjoy the sight of beautiful and divine Mt. Fuji. What a happy tourist I was!

In front of the front desk I saw a young Taiwanese lady. She had enough money only for inn charges--7700 yen for one night.

She did not have money for meals. She could not withdraw any money from a bank account, because she could not use any ATM in Japan during the first three days of New Year.

She said she would eat instant noodle for supper. I felt so sorry for her that I treated her to dinner and breakfast the next morning.

She asked me if she could lend some money from me. I thought she would need some money on the third day of New Year. She could not withdraw any money yet on January 3.

So I said, "All right. If I were you, I would be at a loss what to do in a foreign country. Please take this money." I gave her 5000 yen and wrote my address on her notebook. She heartily thanked me. We said good bye at the station on January 3. I came back to Tokyo.

A week later, I received a letter from the Taiwanese lady. She wrote the letter at Narita Airport. She was enclosing 5000 yen and a youth 18 ticket in the envelope.
The letter said as follows: ( I still keep her letter)

Dear karin,
Here I return you 5000 yen which I borrowed from you. Thank you very much for taking care of me at Kawaguchiko.

I also attached a train ticket, which I tried but gave up to sell because of lousy bargain from the shopkeeper. This ticket is for 5 days and still one day left. You can use this ticket. Go everywhere in Japan by local line as far as you can reach. It is valid till Jan. 20. So, have another holiday by Jan. 20.

I wish you all the best and have a very good new year. I will write you when I'm back to Taiwan.
Bye!
chen, Ling-Ling, Jean

This is one of my precious memories.

　

Lake Yamanakako

Three months have passed since my fracture. I still find it a bit hard to walk. The broken left ankle aches.

One of my friends, Ms. M , took me for a drive to Lake Yamanakako yesterday, because I asked her to take me wherever I could see Mt. Fuji.

Whenever I feel very happy or very depressed, I have an urge to see Mt. Fuji. We drove over the expressway. After that we drove in the country. It was a long drive to Lake Yamanakako.

We stood on the shore looking over Lake Yamanakako. Mt. Fuji rose before our eyes. Mt. Fuji rose against the blue sky. But the middle part of Mt. Fuji was hidden by clouds. Mt. Fuji mourned over the death of people who were killed in that JR derailment accident, I felt.

We saw few people there. It was windy. The waves washed against the shore. Lake Yamanakako was not calm. A boat was slipping through the waves.

Sitting on a rock on the shore, we had lunch. We spent a quiet, happy, a bit lonely afternoon, watching heavenly, beautiful, snowy Mt. Fuji.

Thank you so much, Ms. M, for taking me for a long drive. I shall never forget your kindness.

　

she is 83 years old

Nobody knows how long he or she will live. The longer, the better? I don't think so. But I know I can't decide how long I will live. What matters is how to live.

I think I'd like to live contentedly in my conditions. I live carefully. I live frugally. I live honestly. I live peacefully. I hope my conditions will continue as long as I live.

I know a lady who is 83 years old. Her husband and she ran a Japanese-style hotel in Ishikawa-ken. But they closed down the hotel ten years ago, because they were getting old and tired. They came to Tokyo, where their daughter lived.

They did not live together with their daughter. They rented an apartment. But her husband got a cancer and died in a hospice. ( It is a special hospital where people who are dying are taken care of.)

It was after his death that I became friends with her. She was 78 years old at that time. I came to live in Tokyo that year. I had no friends to enjoy talking with.

She invited me to her dinner. She often cooked for me. She was good at cooking. (Indeed, all of my friends are good at cooking.) Gradually I became very busy and she often went to her daughter's. We had very few chances to see each other.

Yesterday I happened to see her on the street. Long time, no see ! She was walking with the help of a handcart. She said she had lost her health. Her doctor advised her to undergo a through health examination. But she did not seem ill at all.

She was elegantly dressed. She seemed so charming. She was going to Japanese Literature Class. She was studying Genji Monogatari in the class.
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She is getting old but she is still in youth, I think.
As Ullman, an American poet, says,

"Youth is not a time of life--it is a state of mind;"

　

death comes suddenly

I am unable to think about anything but yesterday's rail disaster. The rescue workers tried hard all through the night to save people left inside the cars.

According to today's news at noon, the number of the accident victims has gone up to 73. Nothing or nobody can ease their family's grief. They can't yet accept their son's, their daughter's, their father's, their mother's, their brother's, or sister's death. They can neither believe nor understand anything that has happened so suddenly.

Again, I remember the death of my husband. I remember the last day when my husband, my daughter, and I spent in his sickroom in a hospital. It was Sunday, on March 17, 1974. Our daughter became 6 years old on March 11 and we celebrated her birthday in his sickroom.

She was very happy to see Father . So was Father. My husband had entered hospital on March 5. Though I went to see him every day, my daughter could meet him only on Sunday. We talked and talked, eating strawberries. The strawberry was one of our favorite fruits.

My husband had an oxygen inhaler in order to make breathing easier. It was difficult for him to talk but he was trying to talk to us slowly. He talked to his daughter, "I'm very sorry I can't attend your ceremony at nursery. I'll not be able to go home before your ceremony on March 25. I'm sure everything will go well with you."

He seemed tired after talking too much. I asked him to let us stay with him in his sickroom that night. His sickroom was large enough for us to stay in. His doctor always told me that I could stay with him anytime I wanted.

But he said, "No, karin. I'll keep up myself one more night. If I feel so hard tonight, I'll ask you to stay with me tomorrow. Please take our daughter to nursery tomorrow morning. I don't want to disturb her. This is her last week at nursery. Please go home with her tonight. I had a wonderful time today with you both. See you tomorrow! " "Ok, I will as you wish. See you again," I said. "Bye, bye, Father. I'll coming next Sunday," my daughter said.

That was our last conversation. Those were his last words. During that night he lapsed into unconsciousness. He died in the small hours of March 19, 1974. Death came so suddenly.

I always tell my daughter, "Death will come so suddenly. Do your best you can do for you today. "