2016-2017 Write Eye flip book

hospital is not too far, only around 6 streets away from the house. Just today, the weather is unusually brutal, and I know it will take me more time to get there. As I walk past some streetlight poles and message boards, I notice a few new signs posted there. I try to catch a glimpse of what they say as I walk past, but my eyes start to tear up from the vicious wind, making the signs unreadable. I round the corner to the hospital. There it is: the Honor Health Scottsdale Medical Center, the place that has provided a job for me for almost fifteen years now. I look both ways before I cross the street, and I open the oversized double doors and walk in. My day is pretty average, sending patient after patient into an exam room, as well as implementing a few vaccines for things such as scarlet fever and tuberculosis. I pack up my purse, put on my coat, and walk through the double doors once again. As I make my way back home, I see the posters and decide to stop and read them. In bold, capital letters, the title of the letter reads, “Instructions to all persons of Japanese ancestry living in the following area:” followed by some street addresses. This area included my home. I furrowed my brow, worried if this concerned Sachi or not. I continued to read, “All Japanese persons, both alien and non-alien, will be evacuated from the above designated area by 12:00 o’clock noon, Tuesday, February 26, 1942.” My breath catches in my throat. Are they taking Sachi away from us? Just because of the war prejudice? I stomp my foot on the ground as hot tears burn in the back of my eyes. I run. I run away. I run away from this poster and everything it’s telling me. I run home to Sachi and my children to see if they had heard the news already.

I scramble for my keys in my purse as I make it to the front steps. As I turn the lock and push the door open, I frantically call Sachi’s name. “Sachi! Sachi! Where are you?” I call, my voice echoing around the house. I receive no reply, so I dash upstairs and into her room, calling her name all the while. When I enter her room, I come to a stop. There she is, kneeling by her bed with her face in a pillow, weeping. I immediately run to her side and wrap my arm around her. “Oh, Sachi, do not worry. They cannot take you away. I-” “Yes, they can, Claire. And that is exactly what they are going to do.” Sachi turns to me, tears smeared over her face. “But it is not fair, it…” “Claire. It is alright. I will not be gone forever,” she assures me. Standing up, we hug each other, and I do not want to let go. Six days later, it was time. Both James and Linda took off from school so they could be with Sachi as long as they could. The last few days have been a mix of crying, understanding, and hope. As we stand at the bus station, surrounded by dozens of other Japanese- Americans, I try to tell myself that this situation could be a lot worse. “I will miss you too, dear Linda,” Sachi consoles her, “but this will not be permanent. Do not worry about me.” Linda faintly smiles at her and steps away. James moves towards Sachi and embraces her. Sachi laughs, “Oh James! I will miss you and your messy room a lot!” He smiles and quickly wipes a tear away from his eye as Sachi pats him on the *** “Sachi! I am going to miss you so much!” Linda cries.

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