With "Joy" in My Heart.

#20250313-525

Thursday, March 13, 2025.
Today is hospital day.
I am going to the gynecology clinic I visit regularly.
Because I suffer from severe menstrual pain, I have been using medication to stop my periods for the past few years. Today is my check-up, which happens every few months. I have an appointment, but it usually drags on.

Mu-kun (my husband) is off today, so I have left the grocery shopping and taking care of Noko (my daughter, 5th grade) after school to him.
The forecast says temperatures will drop again this weekend with rain, but today feels like early summer.
I left wearing a long-sleeved blouse and a spring coat, but the coat was unnecessary.
I head to the station with Mu-kun. The supermarket is between our house and the station. Since it is just before opening time, Mu-kun says it will work out perfectly if he drops me off at the station and then heads back to the supermarket.
Mu-kun is on his electric-assist bicycle.
Since Noko can no longer fit in the child seat attached to the back, it is mostly occupied by bulk-bought mineral water and soy milk.
Although I am recovering from a fractured right wrist, my grip strength is still weak and I cannot put weight on my hand, so I haven't tried riding a bicycle.
Mu-kun rides slowly out of consideration for me, but even so, I have to walk quickly to keep up.

Plum blossoms are in full bloom, and Japanese white-eyes are flitting busily between the flowers. Petals scatter in the gentle breeze.
Taiwan cherry buds have also swollen significantly.
The magenta triangular buds hanging in abundance from the leafless branches look as festive as festival decorations. A slender-bodied bulbul is pecking at them and knocking them down.
In the gardens of private homes, the yellow of the mimosa
that has started to bloom is dazzling. When I look around at the sweet, rich scent, I see daphne
. Looking down at the ground, I see tiny
thyme-leaved speedwell. When I told Noko the origin of this flower's name, she frowned and decided we should call it "blue star," and "fuguri" (scrotum) was banned. The
daffodils blooming along the road are also swaying. While the Somei Yoshino cherry buds are still tight, the town is already overflowing with spring flowers.

"How wonderful!"

My steps are light.

"How wonderful!"

Once isn't enough.

My fractured right wrist still doesn't move as I'd like, and it hurts.
The paperwork for my father, who passed away last year, is not yet finished either.
The storytelling recital for my class went well, and I also mailed the documents required for the end of the fiscal year as a foster parent.
There is still much to do, but I am moving forward one step at a time.

I part ways with Mu-kun at the station, and I board the train alone.
I open my book and cast my eyes down.

I shift my gaze outside the window.
The train is crossing a river, and I could see the surface of the water shining white.
Just looking at the flickering light, I truly feel somewhat joyful.

Isn't nostalgia an emotion evoked by the accumulation of past experiences?
Indeed, there are times when I feel nostalgic for a place I have never seen.
The train car is empty, and no one is standing. I feel like laughing at the "joy" within me.
A poster for a cherry blossom festival, advertisements for hospitals and law firms along the line, instructions for the emergency button.
I stretch my senses as if reaching out.
As they expand, I become thin and feel as if I am dissolving into my surroundings.
The purpose of "going to the gynecologist" forcibly pulls me back to "here," shaping me once again.

After the check-up, I'll pick up a lunch box from the usual bakery.
If I have time, I'll stop by the orthopedic clinic on the way home.
Visiting two hospitals is tough, but it would be a huge help if I could finish it all today.
With "joy" in my heart, I trace today's schedule before turning my eyes back to the text.