Today, I had to craft a paragraph about Hiroshima for an international meeting that will be held in Japan this spring. Though it will be my first time in this country, I’ve long felt a kinship for its people. As I researched the Peace Museum, I felt myself swallowing hard, ashamed despite the fact that I’ve already apologized. Once. To Seiko.
In the spring of 2007, Seiko and I were among 25 students preparing for our YogaDance certification in the Berkshires of Massachusetts.
On a steamy June afternoon, she and I strolled down the access road to Kripalu underneath a canopy of leaves, each taking a turn talking and then listening.
On our way back, we paused at a resting spot beside a thickly-trunked tree. As we took a seat on the bench, Seiko turned toward me, and said, shyly:
“Kelly, can I ask you a favor?”
“What is it, Seiko?”
“Will you sing for me?”
I laughed, and looked quizzically at my new friend, and she quickly explained that she wanted to practice her dance prayer but hadn’t been able to find a recording of the song she selected.
“Here?” I said, looking at the grass and the tree.
I wanted to decline, to say that I’d help her find it online, but how could I turn down this young, beautiful woman who was so earnest and kind?
Before I could meet her request, however, I felt something bubbling up inside… something raw and painful and necessary.
“I need to say something to you, first.” I said.
“What is it, Kelly?” Seiko said, sensing my tenderness.
I replied in a trembling voice:
“I want to apologize for dropping the atom bomb… on your country.”
“What?” Seiko said, confused. “I don’t understand.”
Tears filled my eyes as I repeated those terrible words, and then Seiko, took my hands in hers, and said, “Kelly. You don’t have to apologize for that. You and I weren’t even born.”
“I needed to speak those words to someone from your country,” I explained.
Her response was whispered through her own tears…
“No one has ever apologized to me for this before. Thank you.”
And there, under the arms of that magnificent tree in the soft grass of early June, I began to sing…
Somewhere Over the Rainbow…
and Seiko danced.