Surviving Since That Day
January 17th—the day we were struck by the disaster in Kobe, and the day my mother passed away eleven years later—has come around once again.
Countless support was sent from all over for our family (at the time, I lived with my mother and two sisters) because we had lost our home to the fire and had nowhere to return to.
It has been thirty years this year. Even now, when I think back on it, I am filled with the same gratitude I felt then.
After regaining a bit of composure, my mother continued to create embroidered works as a way to express her thanks.
They were all embroidery kits from Olympus or Violay, but she poured her gratitude into every single stitch, framing them like paintings before sending them off.
She even spent years stitching new ones from scratch for our family, as we moved from place to place (the photo shows a portion of them).
A work from her final years.
And for some reason, my mother chose this very day—January 17th—to depart.
She left behind a great deal of thread.
With no one to take up her embroidery,
the thread remained in its box, sleeping for 19 years.
Around Christmas last month—
“Let’s set aside the concept that embroidery thread is only for embroidery, and try using it for knitting.”
That is what I decided.
Threads dyed in various hues, saturations, and brightnesses so that any landscape could be recreated.
I wonder just how many shades of green there are alone...
Looking at them, ideas start to bubble up.
“Color” really does stir the creative spirit, doesn't it?
It is the same exciting feeling as when you are faced with 36 colored pencils and a blank sheet of drawing paper.
Without a knitting pattern, I knitted with a clear mind, and an original corsage was born.
I feel as though I knitted it in a state of 'futari-baori' (two people wearing one coat) with my mother.
A gift from my mother that manifested through my hands.
I also knitted an ornament that would look good on a hat.
As I wrote in 'The Day a Bundle of Clumsiness Complex Tried Knitting for the First Time,' I have lived in a world far removed from handicrafts.
Yet, ever since I started on a sudden impulse one day, it has become something indispensable in my life.
My mother, who raised us with many talents like a Thousand-Armed Kannon.
I am an extension of her.
Thinking of it that way, it seems I inherited my mother’s 'knitting hands'.
My sister just below me has my mother’s 'cooking hands'.
My youngest sister has my mother’s 'hands that cherish plants'.
Both of them have begun second lives that are 180 degrees different from their previous careers.
It seems both have awakened to new 'uses for their hands'.
To help people feel at ease, healed, and happy.
The day we were rescued after nearly 20 hours, traveling through pathless roads that looked like a monster had rampaged through them, from the evacuation center right after the earthquake.
The joy we felt at the water coming out of the faucet at the house where we took shelter.
Just the gratitude that water came out at all.
Along with the coldness I felt cupping it in both hands, it still comes back to me vividly.
After years of struggling just to live,
even now that I am able to enjoy a certain level of affluence,
I still feel keenly that absolutely everything in daily life is by no means something to be taken for granted.
If I were to name just one thing I lost,
it would be my precious photo albums.
Even so, while all the physical photos are gone, the memories have not vanished; they remain in my mind.
I think I have been able to maintain my mental stability by focusing on what remains and the magnitude of what I was given, rather than on what I lost.
The miracle that not a single member of my family was missing on that day 30 years ago.
Thinking of the hellish scene surrounded by flames, I can only call being allowed to live a miracle.
And the miracle that my mother truly became a Thousand-Armed Kannon, and is still connected to us even now.
While being grateful for that,
I will live today, cherishing my everyday life as always.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was Crystal Lulu's article that gently pushed me to write this post.
There is a truth conveyed in every line that cannot be summarized in a single word.
If I were to quote just one sentence...
The fact that we have 'hands' has a meaning beyond simply acquiring physical movement—the more I think about it, the more I feel that way.
By focusing my consciousness on my 'hands,' I was once again reminded of the joy of living in the present.
Lulu-san, thank you.