Soy sauce fried rice is the only flavor my father ever made for me

My father was a "Showa-era man."
He only participated in child-rearing when he felt like it.
He was the type who believed a man's only job was to work.

He wasn't selfish, but he was always the center of his own world.
He never adjusted to others, or rather, to his family.
Not with his plans, his preferences, or his lifestyle.

Perhaps because he grew up struggling on a poor farm, he was particular about small things.
He would tell me to properly scrape the egg white left in the shell when cracking an egg.
Or to eat the meat around fish bones cleanly.

He would sometimes coldly say, "Your mother (my mother) was raised as a pampered girl."
It was true that my mother wasn't frugal, and she wasn't good at using ingredients efficiently without waste.

On the other hand, what my mother hated was him blowing his nose into a towel.
He would say, "You throw away paper, but a towel can be used again," but
she would get angry behind his back, saying, "I wish he would think about the washing."

There weren't many holidays when both my father and mother were home.

On his days off, my father often went golfing or was invited somewhere.

My mother also loved going out.

It was better that way, for the sake of peace.

Very occasionally, there would be a holiday when only my father was home.

One day, for a rare change.

"Shall we have lunch?"
he said, and made me some fried rice.

It was just rice stir-fried with soy sauce, containing nothing but maybe some onion.

It was strangely delicious.

When I said, "This is delicious!"
"Is that so? Your mother doesn't make things like this," he said,
looking proud.

The soy sauce flavor was fragrant, a taste I never grew tired of.

My father and mother would later divorce.
My mother may have never eaten anything my father cooked.
Even though my father often complained about my mother's cooking, he never cooked when she was around.

On my days off, I sometimes make fried rice for my son.
The fried rice I make is always packed with ingredients.

Chicken, onions, carrots, zucchini, eggs, corn...
or
pork, mushrooms, green onions, bell peppers...
and so on.

Since he was little, he's complained—if you can call it that—that there are too many ingredients.

It's true, fried rice that's mostly just rice is delicious, isn't it?
I know that.
But I have to think about nutrition.

That's what I think.
I remember my father's fried rice, but I've never made it for my son.

However.
That's right, maybe next time I'll try making it with the side dishes separate.

Soy sauce flavored stir-fried rice.
My father's one and only taste.

*The illustration was borrowed from Misaki Marui. Thank you very much.