image: T. Oshima“I could hardly make out anything apart from his glowing eyes...”
I had just finished teaching business English to salarymen in Yurakucho one evening when I noticed some beautiful flowers growing next to where I had parked my bike. Not quite knowing why, I picked one and started riding.
When I finally reached Yoyogi Park—always the best part of my ride home—I inhaled deeply, breathing in the cooler air as millions of negative ions [1] swirled about me. The park was empty, dark and peaceful. The silky breeze on my arms offered respite from the sticky summer heat, bringing a smile to my face.
Suddenly, I noticed this utterly beautiful music; a heavy, moody saxophone traveling through the trees. I stopped and listened for some time. I actually found myself crying out of pure gratitude for … everything—love, life, finding a way to somehow make it in Tokyo.
After listening to a few more songs, I decided to find this person who had just brought me so much joy. I walked toward the dark trees. The music grew louder, but still I couldn’t see anyone. I suddenly found myself standing right in front of him, and both of us let out a scream of surprise.
His skin was so dark that I could hardly make out anything apart from his glowing eyes and the saxophone. I apologized for sneaking up on him like that and thanked him for the music. I then handed him the flower I had been carrying and quickly walked away, wondering what he must have been thinking of me.
About four years later, while pushing my bike along a small road next to the same park and talking to some friends, I noticed my husband up ahead, talking to a black guy walking in the same direction. When I caught up with them, my husband asked us if we new each other. Puzzled, we both answered no.
My husband explained that he had noticed the man’s saxophone case and asked him if he sometimes played in the park [2]. He said he did.
“It’s you!” I screamed. “I gave you the flower years ago when I surprised you in the dark!” As soon as I had spoken, I realized how silly that must have sounded and how small the chances were that this guy had any clue as to what I was talking about.
But before I could think any further, he sprang over and hugged me wildly. “I found you!” he said. None of us could believe it.
His name was Zion. For several minutes, we just stared at each other, wearing the biggest grins and patting each other on the back. When it was time to move on, we shook hands and parted with a “see you again some time.”
referenced works
- Known as "minus ions" in Japan, these charged atoms are a big business in Japan, with everything from hair dryers to electric fans to washing machines touting their ability to purify the air -- and even induce a feeling of well-being among their users -- by producing these particles. ↩
- Yoyogi Park, with its secluded groves and air of openness, is a magnet for musicians of all stripes. Hand drums are possibly the most common instrument seen here, but the author of this footnote once had the privilege of watching a musician "play" a boom box/CD scratching device that was slung over his shoulder while simultaneously dancing and painting the author's portrait, a highly entertaining performance that climaxed with the artist reaching out toward the author and screaming "Get!" ↩
location information
- Name: Yoyogi Park
- Address: 東京都渋谷区代々木公園
- Time of story: afternoon
- Latitude: 35.669935
- Longitude: 139.698458
- Map: Google Maps
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