Dobu Street

There is a small city in Japan which is the comforting home of Dobu Street. Many families live on Dobu Street, but one in particular is not so ordinary. If you could even call them a family, a young boy and his grandmother lived on Dobu Street. The young boy’s parents had died when he was still very young, and the grandmother had since then taken care of him.

It was Christmas time on Dobu Street. All the families were rejoicing with various carols and cheer. The young boy especially liked the light snowfall that fell from the sky. It would lay delicately on the light poles and branches of trees. He would love to sit in the den and gaze out the window for hours staring at the peaceful fall of snow. Each year the young boy dared not ask for any gifts, knowing that the family’s budget was very limited. Still, every year his grandmother bought him something small – usually new karate equipment. The boy bought his grandmother things like flowers and new curtains, but each year she refused to accept the gifts. The boy was never disappointed, because he knew that she rejected his gifts for the sake of the family. Each year he’d ask her what she wanted for Christmas, and she would simply reply “I don’t want nothing, boy”.

Years passed in this fashion, and each Christmas was as enjoyable as the next. Some time later, during the summer, the boy received a letter from the Japanese military. In the year 1945 he was to depart for the city of Hiroshima for military training and positioning. His grandmother opposed it, saying that she and him could move to a different location and hide until the war was over. The boy persuaded her not to, however, and in a very short time he had packed his bags and departed.

The grandmother of the boy lived the following years in worry. Letters from the boy slowly came to an awkward halt. On one day she was in the village and overheard conversation of a tragedy that had taken place far to the south. Rushing back to her home, her worst fears were realized when she noticed on the boy’s military papers that his positioning was the exact same city that the tragedy had occurred in. The old woman was immediately emotionally torn to pieces. The young boy resembled her hope for things to come in life. He was literally her reason to live at this point. She did not know what she would do if something were to happen to him.

In the weeks to come leading up to Christmas, she solemnly decorated the house as usual, knowing that there would be no one else there to enjoy them with her. She even bought the young boy a wooden katana for his karate practicing, even though he would not be there. “He might not ever be here for another Christmas”, she thought. Continuous talks from the townspeople led to discussion of the tragedy in Hiroshima. It was said that not a single soul within the city survived, and that thousands of people were killed. Losing all hope to live, the grandmother began her long walk back to her home.

The snow was falling lightly around her, just as the young boy had liked. The dim yellow light of the light poles cast a magical glow on the street as she made her way past homes where families were full and whole, and whose Christmas cheers could be heard from Dobu Street. She lay down to rest that night, praying for emotional strength to aid her during this rough time.

She woke in the morning, and her heart felt as though it was sore from being exercised so vigorously the day before. She walked quietly in to the living room, where a young boy stood with his back to her, facing the window and gazing at the silent and graceful falling of snow. “I didn’t get you anything this year grandma”, he said. “But somehow I don’t think that will disappoint you”...