The Land of the Rising Sun

In a house in a city where the ground stands still, we gathered in the room off the kitchen to watch the news. It was well after the sun and the moon had switched places. We could see our reflections in the window.

Dad pulled out his map of Japan. Over Cheerios and an assortment of Japanese rice crackers we talked people and places and how he still hadn't heard from his friends. The round light over our heads was warm and cast a yellow beam down on the Land of the Rising Sun where everything is dark and unknown. There is no power. No heat. No round lights over heads. Every so often the earth beneath them starts to shake again.

In a house in a city where the ground stands still we said silent prayers; then one aloud, and then we hoped.