Smell that?

 I am only reluctantly walking among destroyed buildings in what was downtown Ofunato. And the much-diluted smell of March 11 lingers still, nine months later. Stagnant seawater is pooled here and there. 

"Yes, it's the smell of the ocean, along with other things," I hear myself say in answer to a gentle newcomer. I can't bring myself to say anything more specific in this place. 

Moments later, I suddenly noticed I didn't smell it anymore. And I had a choice. Do I allow my nose to shut off and shut out the grim reality all around me? No, I need to smell life later. Amazing how the body responds to a choice. It stank. 

In Rikuzen-Takata, the blank city, smoke is rising this noon-time from a gigantic pile of tsunami-shredded wood that had overheated. The "shovel-cars" are perched precariously, trying to take down the pile, while firemen blast the pile with their fire hoses. 

The sight forces me to notice the towering piles of logs nearby. I see the problem. Thank you, firemen and heavy equipment drivers. 

And let me just say that I don't like those flocks of crows circling over the disaster zone. It doesn't say "Life" to me. 

I'm glad we're heading to a kids' Christmas party next, at a temporary housing unit that tajes up a grade-school playground. About 15 kids showed up. 

An old-sounding Christmas song, too antique for four-year-old ears to understand, sends her into a fit of giggles. "Hee hee, she said 'fart'!" 

"Hey, I wanna put this cotton fluff on the Christmas tree. Somebody pick me up so I can reach."

    Here ya go. 

"Nope, I'm not playing that game. Don't wanna tear my tights."

    OK. Here, I'll sit with you while the others play, then. 

"Auntie, you smell good."

"What's in the Christmas presents? C'mon, tell me!"

The earth jolts. A mama comes running to check on her kids. A pudgy first-grade boy looks up at me, the nearest adult. "What was that earthquake?" 

    It's a small one, little man, you're OK. 

"We're gonna light these candles with real fire?"

    Yes, be careful.

"Hey, I sang Silent Night with you. I sang. My cousin did too!"

    Yes you did! *hug*

"I blew out my candle. Ewwwwww, that stinks! Ewwwwww!!"

The four-year-old grosses out. A fourth-grade boy objects. 

"Whaddya mean it stinks? I like this smell. It smells like cake!"

I dunno kids, it sure smells like Life to me. Thanks. I needed that.