Half-stories

What, may I ask, am I being prepared for? It’s been a whirlwind month, with a recurring theme: Change Of Plans. Maybes. Almosts. Not this but that. The destination changed several times. The timing changed every few days, it seems.

I’m bad at relaying maybes. I want definites. Half-stories are really hard for me to tell.

“I’m going here on this date. Woops, no I’m not. How about here? Oh. Well then.”

Come to think of it, this entire disaster is riddled with half-stories. There might be a nuclear meltdown in the disabled nuclear plant. Sort of. It might be fine, or it might get worse. Maybe the people in the temporary housing will find local jobs, set up farms again, or start fishing again. Maybe they’ll move away. Maybe the crops near the plant are fine. Maybe not. Maybe the tsunami really did permanently cripple cities like Rikuzen-Takata, never to be rebuilt. Maybe it will make a comeback. Oh please come back. Don’t stop now. 

My giggles gave way to impatient tears after a while, and I got a severe case of are-we-there-yet, complete with the accompanying drama. Or maybe it was just that I so wanted to be North and doing something, and felt stuck in Yokohama. Probably both. (Silly girl, doing isn’t everything.) There have been several maybe-here, maybe-now, maybe-theres that I almost mentioned. I thought I knew the city and the timeframe, at least. I didn’t. And the calendar has got to be kidding me. All of that in only two weeks? How did the time creep by so slowly?

Finally, though, one of the maybes has become a definite. I’m heading North tomorrow, to Morioka City. The four suitcases and one sleeping bag were shipped there today, and I’ll catch up with the luggage tomorrow evening by bullet train.

How many half-stories will I encounter there, and how do I tell them?

What am I walking into?

No clue. Maybe it’s better that way.

Besides. Papa’s a much better driver than me. So what if He has a few surprises along the way? 

(Remind me I said that the next time I freak out.)