Nostalgic Novel of Japanese expat children (2) Those Days in Alabama
On my very first day of preschool, when I was a three years old, I couldn't understand a single word my teacher was saying. I was so scared that I clung to my mother's skirt. Mom and the teacher talked for a while. Then Mom knelt down, smiled at me, and said in Japanese, "Go have fun, Yuki." She gently placed my hand in the teacher's. The classroom walls were painted a soft pink. Sunlight poured through the big windows, making everything sparkle. There was a shelf full of toys in the back. Children my age were running around, laughing at the tops of their lungs. Some had blond hair. Some had dark, curly hair. Some had sun-tanned skin. They all came over to talk to me. I couldn't understand a single thing they were saying. I was frightened. I didn't understand anything. I cried my way through the whole day. The moment Mom picked me up, I threw my arms around her and burst into tears. I couldn't stop cryi...