-- Short Story --

I wrote this short story when I was a student.
Reading it over again reminds of my school days.
Please read it, if you like. Let me add that it's a fiction.

The left thing behind the U.S.A

There is a blue sky. There is the vast earth. There are many people who wave their hands and smile. As I leave here, I keep several memories to myself. This scene isn't too different from six months before except that the people see me off. These circumstances appear unique to America, influenced by the continental climate. There are many Japanese and other various races in the airport. Why did they come here? Why will they leave here? What do they think about?

I remenbered when I came here and what purposes I had. I had full expectations what might happen to me and how much I would develop my mind. I also made a plan how I would use this opportunity. It was my uncle who gave me this chance. He lives in San Francisco. I heard that he studied painting before when he was a student. After he taught himself Art in Japan, he went over to New York looking for a free image. And then he married his wife when he worked at the atelier in San Francisco city. Now he manages the Art School in Oakland. He is quite different from me. I hung onto my parents and owed much to them for allowing me to go to an Art College, and I learned painting easily. When I was just in second grade of college, my uncle suggested to me that I study painting at his school. He said, "There will be an Art contest on campus. If you get a grand prize, you will get on in life."
I heard that he was famous as an artist. If I got the grand prize in the contest of his school, I would be recognized as one of the students who are expected to be great artists. This was the chance that was better than I expected. There
were enough scenes for me to paint there San Francisco. There were Pier 39 and Northbeach in Fisherman's Warlf, Alcatraz island, and the setting sun that we could see at the top of Nob Hill. There was also the Golden Gate Bridge, the longest suspension Bridge in the whole world. The Bay Bridge was also one of the scenes I wanted to paint.

I stayed at the dormitory in Richmond. My room was small, but pretty and clean. I was pleased with it. When I went to school, I got on the train, BART. Berkeley University was on the way to the Art School in Oakland. Student movements were sometimes caused by several active students at Berkeley University, but really it was a magnanimous college of America. When I made a sketch of the scene which was used by the movie, The Graduate, I forgot time passed. "Would you like a glass of orange juice?" asked a stewardess. I held my breath with a start, and at the same time I came to myself. I have taken a seat on the return flight already. "Thank you very much," said I, and when I was about to take a glass of orange juice, I missed the glass. "Oh, my God!" When I said so, the juice spilt over my skirt which I just bought the day before yesterday. "I am very sorry to trouble you," she appologized. Of course she was not wrong, but I was. "I am OK," I said. I smiled at the stewardess, but the skirt was stained. I lost no time in removing the stain.

At that time, I remembered a certain thing that happened to me long before I began to go to school. It was in October. There were many children with their parents in the park then. In that day the children played with toys there, too. They were absorbed in playing. When I was a child, I used to do so. I came to the park in order to paint as usual. It was the day that I gave the finishing touches. I got into the swing of my work, and the work went forward.