Father and Alexa

One day, when I returned to my parents' house, I found that Alexa had been installed.

"What is this?"

I couldn't help but ask.

Or rather, Alexa was looking at me as if it wanted me to ask.

I had no choice but to ask.

My mother stopped preparing dinner, looked at me, and said.

“You see, your father just can't seem to remember the name, Alexa's.”

He can't remember the name? Alexa's?

I was quite shocked.

But this story doesn't end there.

My mother continued.

“Well, he was calling it something else, what was it again?”

Just then, my father returned home from work at the perfect moment.

“Oh, Dad. What was it again? What were you calling Alexa by mistake?”

"Hmm? Alexo."

Alexo.

That's awful.

I have never heard such a terrible mispronunciation.

Without caring that I was stunned, my father cheerfully continued talking to Alexo—no, Alexa.

"Alexa, I'm home."

Alexa: "♪ Welcome home! I'm so happy to hear your voice again today."

Man, Alexa is too nice.

If I were Alexa, I would have definitely run away from home.

My father is a serious man who rarely tells jokes.

That is precisely why, every now and then, he hits a massive home run like this.

Ever since that day, whenever my father comes up in conversation, the first thing that comes to mind is when he called it "Alexo."

And this episode would go on to be grandly unveiled at my wedding a few years later.

Yes, the "bride's letter."

Ever since I was little,
"Don't you ever do a bride's letter at your wedding. It's too embarrassing."
My mother would tell me this repeatedly every time a scene with a "bride's letter" appeared on TV.

However, when it came time to actually plan my wedding, the more I thought about it, the more I realized the flow wouldn't feel complete without a "bride's letter."

I decided to go against my mother's wishes and read a letter, but once I started writing, it just didn't feel right.

Of course, I am grateful.

But I also felt that announcing it in front of people now didn't seem right either.

Above all, I thought that was probably what my mother meant when she said she didn't want me to do it.

Completely lost, I decided to consult with the wedding planner.

"A bride's letter is great for expressing gratitude on the spot, but it also serves the role of introducing the good qualities and things you love about your parents."

The moment she said this, a certain scene flashed through my mind.

Alexo.

From that point on, my "desire to get a laugh" switch was fully turned on.

I wanted everyone to hear the story of Alexo.

And above all, I wanted to make my mother, who hated the idea of a "bride's letter," laugh.

It was no longer our wedding reception, but Alexo's.

I polished the letter over and over again until the day of the ceremony.

Before I knew it, I was thinking about Alexo every single day.

And finally, the day before the wedding, I finished writing the "bride's letter."

My “Bride's Letter” challenge to absolutely not make my mother cry was about to begin.

The day proceeded smoothly through the ceremony and reception, and before I knew it, it was time for the “Bride's Letter.”

The emcee began to speak gently.

“Now, we have a letter from the bride, expressing her feelings to her parents.”

The venue lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on me.

By the way, I chose the opening theme of “Always: Sunset on Third Street” as the background music.

Just imagine it.

From my mother's perspective, it must have been a production that made her want to cover her ears and say, “Please, stop it.”

However, these were all part of a grand “setup” by me.

The beginning followed the typical flow of a “Bride's Letter,” where after thanking the guests, I said something like, “Please allow me to read a letter to my parents.”

When I glanced at my mother on the other side, she was, as expected, pursing her lips.

Then, I introduced my family members one by one.

The story of my brother who wrote and sang a song about a bottlenose dolphin and Eiji Bando when he was a child.

The story of my grandmother who put cilantro in miso soup.

The story of my mother who still calls the silver tuxedo my father wore at his wedding “Mackerel.”

A feeling of “Wait? This is a bit different from the bride's letter I was expecting, isn't it?” began to spread.

And then, the main event of this wedding,
the story of my father, who couldn't remember Alexa's name and called her “Alexo.”

I clearly felt the atmosphere of the venue change at that moment.

Although I didn't hear any laughter, there was a buzz....... in the air.

From my friends' table, amidst an unnatural silence, I could hear “.........hic”—a sound clearly trying to suppress laughter.

I wasn't looking, but their shoulders were probably shaking.

Honestly, I don't remember what I said after “Alexo.”

Before I knew it, I had finished reading the letter.


Then, I handed the bouquets and the teddy bears weighing the same as we did at birth to my parents on the other side of the venue.

When I looked at my parents, they were standing there with bright, clear faces, showing no signs of having shed any tears.

I did a fist pump in my heart.

They really are my parents.

When I handed the teddy bear to my mother, she reacted exactly as you'd expect, exclaiming, "Wow! This is the one I wanted!"

Then, after a brief pause, she said this:

"Oh my, you really are a good writer. I laughed so much."

I was hundreds of times happier to hear those words than if she had said "I hope you'll be happy" or "You look beautiful."

It was the highest compliment, one that only my mother, who has watched my journey all this time, could give me.

And above all, I felt deeply relieved that my mother, who had insisted so much that I "not do a bride's letter," had said something like this, and for some reason, I almost cried right then and there.

I was afraid I'd cry if I made eye contact, so I just gave her a thumbs up.

My father was standing there smiling, holding a bouquet.

Yeah, that's my dad as always.


Finally, I stood with my parents outside the venue to see the guests off.

My friends told me,
"That's the first time I've ever laughed and cried during a 'bride's letter'"
"I didn't hear anything after 'Alexo'"
they said.

One of them even said to my father, who was standing next to me,
"Alexo was the best!!"

My father just kept grinning.

Knowing him, he probably doesn't even remember calling it Alexo.

But well, he looks happy, so I guess it's fine.

And so, the wedding reception for us and Alexo came to a close.

My father will surely do something else again.

I want to make sure I don't miss it.

The other day, I asked my father, who works at an elementary school, "What do elementary school kids like these days?"

"Oh, that doll, Rurubu."

It's Labubu.