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So this is America, he thought. He breathed the air deeply; it was intoxicating after the long hours spent in the stale air of the aircraft. The sun was dazzling. It shimmered over the concrete of the runway, and glimmered and sparkled over the sea. Such a peaceful sea, he thought. It had not been so long ago that this sea, this island, had seen ferocious battles, and death had rained down from the skies. Or perhaps it was long ago. More than a lifetime, and the land and the sea seem to have forgotten the war, if they ever even noticed it. People don’t forget so easily, though.

His wife followed him out of the cabin, and they stood together for a moment, their hands brushing each other’s. He glanced at her, and found her looking back, and they exchanged tiny smiles, barely more than a crinkling of the eye. They were still less than halfway to their destination, but this would be a welcome respite as the plane was refuelled.

At the top of the ramp stairs, two stewardesses waited as the passengers disembarked. They smiled brightly as the couple stepped forward on shaky legs. The stewardesses said something in English as the couple passed. Neither the man nor his wife could understand a word, but the meaning was clear enough, and they both bowed, and thanked them for their attention, and then made their way carefully down the steep steps.

✪

A man waits at the arrivals gate of Los Angeles airport. He stands alone. He occasionally checks the arrival board. His parent’s flight from Honolulu should have landed thirty minutes ago, but there is no sign yet of anyone emerging from the gates. He checks his watch, sighs, and schools himself to patience.

The arrival hall is decked with flags and streamers of red, white and blue. They are the remnants of the celebrations which have been held across the country: a country already two centuries old. It is barely an adolescent in the history of civilizations, and, like an adolescent, it is filled with reckless energy and boundless optimism. The man likes this country; he has made it his home for seven years. Far across the continent, on the coast of the darker sea, his wife and daughter wait for him. The country is no longer a strange land, but has welcomed him and adopted him, as it has so many other people from all over the world.

The man’s reverie is interrupted by a swell of muttering from the people in the hall. He looks around to see what has happened, and hears the tika-taka of the arrival board being updated. When the new information is displayed, the man bites his lip in frustration: his parent’s flight has been diverted, and has returned to Honolulu. No other information is given.

One of the waiting welcoming parties is a group of about ten Japanese-Americans. They gather together to confer, and a name from their conversation catches the man’s ear. Takeshi isn’t coming today, it seems. Takeshi is his father’s name. How strange. Could they be waiting for his parents as well?

✪

The captain made an announcement, but it was difficult to hear. Static popped and fizzled through his voice. Not that it would have made any difference: the couple had only a few words of English, anyway, just those words which had gradually leeched into their language since the end of the war.

The plane was shuddering and lurching sickeningly. His wife clutched his hand tightly, and the man pretended that the reason he clutched her back just as tightly was to offer her comfort. It would not do to show how nervous he was. He was unaware of the beads of sweat that glistened above his upper lip, or how his unblinking eyes were showing their whites.

A stewardess swayed down the aisle, managing to remain graceful despite the sickening shifts of the wind-buffeted plane. She used the backs of seats to catch her balance as she moved, stopping occasionally to answer a passenger’s questions. Her smile gleamed in the shifting shadows of the cabin, and in her wake nervous fears were calmed, at least for a time.

She paused next to the man and his wife. She must have seen something that concerned her, for she offered them her warmest smile and gentlest words. The man nodded and bared his teeth in a smile that felt unnatural even to him; his wife had her eyes tightly closed, and was repeating supplications under her breath, and did not even hear the words. They wouldn’t have meant anything to her, anyway.

Shortly after the stewardess had finished walking the aisle and taken a seat, the plane started to bank slowly out of the rising crosswinds, and return the way that it had come.

✪

It turns out that the people are waiting for his parents. They are his father’s mother’s relatives, who came to America before the war. They are delighted to meet Takeshi’s son.

And you have a daughter now! We know, we know, that’s why your parents are making such a long journey to see you.

They spend some time making introductions and exchanging news. They are delighted to have met each other in such an unlikely place, thousands of miles and a hundred years away from where they had started. The man had known that his father had relatives in America, but he had not realised that they live in California.

We’re all living here, now! After they let us out of the camps – after the war was over – most of us had lost our homes, and we came here. There’s a whole street in Los Angeles where only Japanese live! Not that we’re Japanese now – we’re American!

An announcement is made over the loud speakers of the airport. The plane will attempt the flight again tomorrow, after the storm has passed.

Have you got a place to stay? No? Come stay with us. Really, we insist. We want to hear all about Takeshi’s son!

✪

The couple stepped out of the plane once again. It was even more of a relief this time, after the winds which had furiously shaken and rattled them. The flight had felt as if it would never end.

Will our son be here to greet us? wondered the man. And my mother’s relatives? It’ll be good to see my aunts and uncles and cousins again – although I don’t know if I would have dared to come had I known how difficult the journey would be! In the privacy of his own mind, the man could admit that he had been more than a little nervous on the flight.

His wife is looking around curiously. It is evening at the airport, and the uncertain light makes it difficult to see, but there is something oddly familiar about the place. She points this out to her husband. He makes his own inspection of the surroundings, and is forced to agree.

So this is Los Angeles. Strange, it looks almost exactly like Hawaii.

✪

It is a bright summer day in Los Angeles. The man waits at the airport once again, but this time he does not wait alone: he stands with his newfound relatives. The plane has left Honolulu once again, and has landed safely after a smooth and uneventful flight. The man is relieved. He will meet his parents, and board another plane that will take them across the continent, back to his young family. He feels as if he has been away from them for too long.

He cannot wait to see his parents, and show them the life that he has made. He smiles, thinking of how impressed they will be by his home: all the modern appliances, running water and electricity in every room, the television, the car. He has gained his independence. He becomes proud, thinking of how far he has come.

✪

The couple step through the arrival gates. They see their son waiting for them. He has grown into a man – they can see that in the way he holds himself, and they feel a quiet glow of pride.

The man brushes his wife’s hand as they walk forward. They glance at each other, eyes crinkled in smiles. They share the same thought: Los Angeles and Honolulu aren’t anything like each other, after all.

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