My 90 yrs old aunt in my old country lives by herself. My Auntie does not call me because she is not sure how to call U.S. I usually call her every other week to check on her. Every time I call she tells me she will kick the bucket soon as she has been telling me for the last 15 years or so. She is a tough old woman.
My home town is one of the dying towns. The young left home for larger cities, while the old are slowly dying out.
“Most of the neighbors are gone,” Auntie said. “After Ms. Ono passed, the house is unoccupied. The Oharas are gone too. Mine is the only house lit at night. It’s like a small boat in the middle of ocean at night. Even your Mom’s house is dark.”
Ma lives nearby. They watch over each other. “She hasn’t turned on the light yet. Go check on your Auntie. She might be dead,” Ma says to me when I’m around. “The light is out. Your mom must be in bed already,” Auntie says when I am with her. My Ma has been in hospital for about two months and her house has been dark.
Being alone on a boat in the middle of ocean at night. Nobody hears you. Nobody sees you. Nobody even know you exist.
It’s what we all are afraid of, isn’t it?
The ocean must be full of those lonely boats… I would rather be a falling tree in the woods in silence because nobody is there to hear it fall.