Boasting About My Sister

I was very close with my sister, who is three years older than me. To me, she was someone to be proud of. The neighbors would all agree that she was a 'lovely young lady,' my friends called her 'beautiful,' and our cousins adored her for her cheerful and kind nature.

When we were in elementary school, we often went together to the municipal pool two stations away during summer vacation. We would put our swimsuits on under our clothes, put on our hats, and we were ready to go. Once we arrived at the nearest station, we would walk silently along the path to the pool, and even when we finally arrived, we often found long lines at the ticket booth, so we frequently had to wait under the scorching sun.

At the time, I had no way of knowing my sister's position or how she felt, but I imagine it must have been a heavy burden for her to take her three-year-younger sister back and forth by train. Even if it was at our mother's request, it couldn't have been fun to travel with a difficult younger sister. My sister, who was a serious child who never disobeyed our parents, would diligently take me along and take care of everything for me. She handled the train tickets, admission tickets, choosing a locker, and keeping the key—everything was left to her. I didn't have to worry about anything, think about anything; I just had to follow her and play. And on the way home, we would always buy soda-flavored ice cream and eat it on our way back. The stagnant water in the drainage ditch along the way, with its swaying water plants, moss, and piles of trash, is burned into the corner of my memory. The relentless, stinging sunlight and the summer scenery were filled with a languid, mirage-like atmosphere.

Time passed, and during my single days when I was commuting to work from home, my sister, who was also an office worker in Tokyo, would often buy me souvenirs on her way home. Whether it was traditional sweets from long-established shops or treats from famous stores, they were all delicious, and my sister would watch happily as my gluttonous younger brother and I devoured them. Whenever she heard that something from somewhere was delicious, she would go out of her way during her lunch break or on her way home to buy it, making the whole family smile.

Looking back, the scents and the hustle and bustle of the city from that era seem to come back along with the tastes of things like the canapés and croissants from 'Saint Germain' and 'Andersen,' which were stylish bakeries still rare in the provinces, the rich chocolate cake from the chocolate specialty shop 'Top's,' and the cookies from 'Yoku Moku' or the big pudding from 'Juchheim.'

It wasn't until I got married and became the one waiting for my family at home that I truly understood how happy a souvenir can make you feel. Because it is fundamentally different from having someone buy something you asked for, a souvenir can brighten your heart in an instant. My sister's thoughtfulness back then is a sweet memory that I now find incredibly nostalgic and am deeply grateful for.

Also, when I was living in the provinces due to my husband's job transfer, a mom friend who was a mother of two once complained to me. She said her daughters were very competitive and fought a lot over everything. I never had that experience, and I felt that sisters can be very different. I often wanted to copy my sister, but I never saw her as a rival. I think my sister was always a sisterly sister, and I was always a sisterly younger sister.

Even now, I am absolutely obedient to my sister. I am more concerned about her mood than anyone or anything else. There is, of course, a certain kind of fear, but above all, I want to be useful to her. I believe that is the best way to repay her and atone for my past neglect.