Spring Blooming in the Lunch Box [Shirokuma Literature Club]

"Make sure you put the petals in, definitely!"

"I want petals too, definitely!"



I have twin daughters.
Their names are Sakura and Koharu.



Thankfully, their nursery school provides lunch, but
there is one day a month when they have to bring a packed lunch.



In my daughters' lunch boxes,
there is something that is always included.



That is...

Small petals made from ham.

"It's the perfect side dish for Sakura and Koharu, who were born in spring, right?"

My wife says with a laugh. As she skillfully slides her knife through the ham, a pink flower full of petals is complete.

"Daddy, look.
There are flowers blooming inside my lunch box."

When Sakura says this to me with sparkling eyes,

"Daddy, look.
Spring has come inside my lunch box."

Koharu follows up, showing me a lunch box exactly the same as Sakura's.

"Sakura and Koharu's lunch boxes look the most delicious in the world."

When I say that,
the two of them smile proudly
and busily put their lunch boxes into their school bags.

Every time, my wife would make
colorful, adorable lunches with great care.

Only one thing,
the "ham flowers" made from ham,
were in their lunch boxes every single month without fail.

At some point, the ham flowers
became a promised side dish
between my wife, Sakura, and Koharu.

On lunch box days, the kitchen is a little more cluttered than usual, and my wife seems busy, but she also seems to be enjoying that busyness.

Usually,
my wife serves me breakfast, but
only on lunch box days

"I can't get away right now, so please help yourself."

Once a month,
for my wife, my priority drops just a little bit.

I didn't dislike such peaceful mornings.

One day, my wife suddenly collapsed.





She was rushed to the hospital,
and after that, it all happened in a flash.

For a while, worried about me not being very good at housework, my mother and my wife's mother took turns helping me.




Cleaning, laundry, cooking,
and even picking up and dropping off Sakura and Koharu at nursery school,
and the once-a-month bento...

One day, several months later,
Sakura said quietly,




"Sakura wants to eat the petal bento."




Koharu said immediately too,




"Koharu wants Mommy's petal one too."





At those words, I finally realized.

I had been doing everything I could just to keep myself together.




But

these children's hearts

were much smaller than mine

and had been hurting all along.

On the day of the next bento,



I stood in the kitchen.

Wearing my wife's apron.

I took the ham out of the package
and slid the knife just like my wife did.



The tip of the knife
hit my left index finger.



A little blood welled up.




At that moment, for some reason, tears came out.

It was the first time I had cried since my wife was gone.

Was it because my finger hurt?



Was it because I couldn't cut the ham well?




Or...




was it because my wife wasn't there?





To be honest, I didn't really know myself.





I wrapped a bandage around my left hand,
and the flower ham I had made with such effort
was not beautiful enough to be called petals.

Even so,

The next month, too.

And the month after that.

I made flower petals.





Little by little,
they started to look like the real thing.

I heard it from the nursery school teacher.

"Daddy is working hard to wake up early and make flower-shaped ham."

That's what Sakura said.

"Daddy's flower ham is starting to look more and more like Mommy's."

That's what Koharu said.

The moment they open their lunchbox lids,



"It's a flower petal!"



Imagining the faces of the two of them laughing as they say that,
I started to be able to smile a little, too.

The day of the parent-child field trip before graduation arrived.




In the morning, I made four lunchboxes.




One for Sakura.



One for Koharu.



One for me.




And one more.




I packed it with
more flower ham than usual.




I placed it in front of her memorial portrait.




"Today is the last day I'll be making lunch for nursery school."

I told her that as I pressed my hands together in prayer.

My wife in the photograph
was smiling just as she had that day.

There were many families in the park.




Sakura and Koharu sat on a leisure sheet and
opened their lunchboxes.

Koharu
immediately picked up the flower-shaped ham with her chopsticks and
popped it into her mouth.

"Dad, you've gotten better at making flower ham!"

Koharu has started
talking down to me sometimes.

Sakura
doesn't touch the flower ham for a while.

I know that
Sakura always eats her favorite things
last.

When Sakura picked up the flower ham with her chopsticks,

"It's too much of a waste to eat it."

Saying that,
she gazed at the flower ham I made
for a while before eating it. Once they finished eating, the children immediately ran off toward a circle of friends.

I am left alone on the sheet.

The children's happy voices
blend with the rustling of the trees swaying in the wind, which is pleasant.





Two small, empty lunchboxes.




At that moment,





flutter, flutter,





cherry blossom petals danced down.





One landed in Sakura's lunchbox.





One landed in Koharu's lunchbox.

I look up at the sky.





The cherry blossoms in full bloom were swaying in the spring breeze.






For some reason, tears welled up in my eyes.





But I feel like
these are different from the tears I shed in the kitchen that day.






A single tear that ran down my cheek

was gently touched

by another petal.






It was as if





"I'm here with you"

was being said to me.

Sakura and Koharu
will be first graders soon.

In front of my wife,
the two school bags they chose
are lined up side by side.

A light pink one and
a deep pink one.

When April comes,

cherry blossom petals will surely

dance down onto their backs.