I am always remembering. I am always with her. I have also let her go. She raised and protected me, even midst all that she had been through: bombings by the United States, death and destruction; the depression and devastation of the postwar while the U.S. and allies bulldozed and built the military bases and then ruled the Japanese. Censorship, fights and relationships with African-American and white men and women of the military; hunting for her sister’s body in Hiroshima that never came to fruition; falling for Americans, meeting my father; giving birth to me and raising me amidst the mean stares and verbal and physical abuse by Japanese for being the mother of a “love child” and a “mixed-blood” and “black” child. Experiencing her friends go to jail or commit suicide, go hungry; coming to America, learning to live in American culture, enduring Americans’ prejudice against “Japs,” learning to be herself in America and taking care of herself; being kind, gentle, tough, raging, funny as hell, being wise.