It was a Friday when the earthquake happened, exactly 3 months ago. I knew many of my friends would have to walk 3-5 hours to get back home that day, because all the trains had stopped. So I offered my apartment to all my friends on Facebook to stay the night, because my place is right in the center of Tokyo.
One of them told me I was crazy to put my address on FB like that. But I don’t care, although nobody showed up at my doorstep that night, because most people were trapped somewhere, without any phone/internet connections.
There are many elderly people living in my building, so I went downstairs to see if I could do anything to help, but the building manager simply told me to stay home. He was busy checking on everyone.
That night, I had my passport under my pillow when I tried to sleep through the rock and roll of the aftershocks.
The next morning, the sky was so blue, the most beautiful innocent blue I had ever seen in Tokyo, which made it extra hard to believe what happened the day before. It was surreal.
It was also very warm, and the street was eerily quiet. People walking around seemed to be still in a daze.
Then we heard the news about the explosions in the nuclear power plant in Fukushima.
All the foreigners here started to plan their escapes. I was among the first to run, and the main reason was my family.
Of course the relentless aftershocks, the scheduled blackouts, and the empty supermarket shelves and gas station pumps all scared the hell out of me, but the last straw was the radiation and the contaminated food and water.
Nick, the surgeon in New York, offered to buy me the flight ticket and take me in. I know he did love me in his own way. But I also know he will never love me the way I want to be loved. I just can’t imagine a future with him.
So when my mum got me the last flight ticket leaving Tokyo the next day, and ordered me to go home, I did.
