To You, Six Months Old, Who Cannot Reach the Banana

The back of your head has gone bald.

Even though the overall volume of your hair is increasing, since you turned four months old, the back of your head has become bald, as if it were a cleared plot of land. The doctor at the hospital told me it's common at this age, so I shouldn't worry.
It seems that when you are in a supine position, the area that rubs against the pillow is prone to hair loss. Come to think of it, you move your head constantly these days, trying to look in various directions. Perhaps that accelerates the friction. You look around restlessly, always appearing to search for a new angle.

Once your neck became strong enough to hold your head up and you could be carried upright, you became even more interested in your surroundings. Since you can now look at the world head-on, rather than just looking up from below, it can be called a paradigm shift.
The frequency of your requests to be held has increased, and you now demand to be swayed vertically or lifted high. You love being in front of the mirror; when you make eye contact with me in the reflection, you use your flexible joints to move your limbs freely and laugh out loud.

Furthermore, the arrival of your teeth has greatly expanded your possibilities. You had been putting your fingers in your mouth and chewing with your gums for a while, but suddenly, two lower front teeth popped out. Your new teeth seem to make your gums itch incessantly, and you have become inseparable from your 'teether,' a toy for practicing chewing.
At first, you couldn't hold it well and would lament when you threw it and it disappeared, but eventually, you learned to pick it up with your fingers and smoothly bring it to your mouth. Sometimes you distract yourself with a flat, squishy teether, and other times you rub a banana-shaped teether all over your (future) molars like a toothbrush.You seem to use different types depending on your mood, such as their hardness or thickness, and after crying yourself tired, you bite down on a plate-shaped teether until you tremble, then let out a satisfied sigh. It reminds me of a beer after work. Perhaps as a byproduct of the toy, you have become adept at handling your body, and you even started supporting your baby bottle yourself. You have also discovered the existence of your own feet in your field of vision, and you chase and grab them with interest.

One day, you accidentally sent your banana teether flying. Usually, you would start crying on the spot, but the desire to chew seemed to win out, and you twisted your body to try and pick it up.
But the banana had fallen in such an exquisite position that no matter how much you reached, it remained just out of reach, and you let out a groan. You strained with all your might, your face turning bright red as you lifted your upper body. Even when you flopped back onto your back, you didn't give up and reached out again. Back. Reach. After several attempts, with a desperate cry of 'Ngya!', your body rolled over 180 degrees.
It was your first time rolling over.At that moment, your eyes went wide with surprise, and then you grinned.

Having witnessed your first roll-over up close, I was deeply moved, more than I expected. Since being brought into this world by cesarean section, you had been passive in everything—sleeping, drinking, and bathing. In this very moment, you had acquired your first means of transportation. For the first time, you had gone where you wanted to go by your own will.
Until now, I had thought that walking was the major milestone in a baby's growth and that rolling over was just a transitional phase. I was wrong. Rolling over is a great act. It is only a small movement of a few centimeters, but for you, it is a great journey. I called your neck control a paradigm shift earlier, but rolling over is truly your Copernican revolution.It is deeply moving to think that the children running around the park and the politicians giving speeches on TV all had a moment when they first rolled over. I have become a total rolling-over freak and have gone around preaching the charm of rolling over to my friends, but they just brushed it off. I want a DVD that collects the moments when people first roll over.

In the early stages of rolling over, you couldn't yet do the 'roll-back' to return to your back. You seemed to find it difficult to keep lying on your stomach, and you would cry with your cheek pressed against the floor. Even when I hurriedly turned you back over, you would immediately try to roll over again, crying 'Ngya, Ngya.' And then cry again. Seeking the banana, you would roll over and cry dozens of times a day.
After a vast number of attempts, within a week, you started looking cool even while lying on your stomach. You also learned to use the weight of your head to gain momentum and roll back. Seeing your incredibly persistent attitude, I, who would dwell on a rejection for three days, felt humbled.

By the time you turned six months old, you kicked your right leg out while keeping your stomach on the floor and moved forward just a little. It was what is known as 'crawling.' For a moment, you seemed unsure of what had happened, but after trying to move forward again, you smiled with an expression that said, 'This is it.' It was the moment you mastered crawling, following your mastery of rolling over.
Once you learned to crawl, it became second nature, and you kept kicking the floor until you reached your physical limit, as if you had been moving like this all along. Since you can't move with your left leg yet, you rotate counter-clockwise little by little, but you manage to make fine adjustments with your arms. 360 degrees have become yours.

Whether you are in the room or out for a walk, you are constantly moving your head and body. You observe the scenery from various angles and try to touch it with your hands. You crawl under the desk to stroke the uneven parts on the underside, or stick your fist between the bars of your crib to grab and release.
You love swaying scenery: leaves blowing in the wind, barley tea sloshing at the bottom of a glass, the shadows of fluttering curtains. You seem unable to suppress your excitement for such things. My moving my mouth while eating seems to fall into the same category, and you stare at me with a serious face when I start eating dinner, which makes me a little nervous.

You prefer the sound of wet wipes rubbing together over a rattling bell toy, the four-colored buttons on the remote over the anime on TV, and when I play peek-a-boo, you laugh harder at the 'peek' than the 'boo.' When a lot of presents arrived in cardboard boxes, I lined them all up, and you went for the cardboard box first. It is wonderful how you consistently betray our shallow assumptions about what you might like.
You go wild when I gently cover your face with a towel, but if I were to start levitating in the air right now, you might not be that surprised. Incredible events that are 'unbelievable' to an adult's mind happen one after another every day. Since you seem to see the world with such eyes, I am very envious.

However, the expansion of your range of action and objects of observation seems to have had a different effect on you as well.I feel that, if anything, there are more situations where you become grumpy.When you roll too much and pass the remote, or when you can't get over the step of the baby mat, you show frustration with a furrowed brow, an expression you never showed before. You try to touch the stuffed animals on the moving merry-go-round or try to get the banana teether stored in the toy box, but since you are still weak at complex movements, you sometimes cry in frustration.

Where there was no idea of looking or touching before, the possibility that you might be able to reach it was born. The possibility that you might be able to reach it simultaneously highlighted the places you cannot reach. By becoming able to do things, you realized what you cannot do. That seems to be quite stressful.

What I remembered was a memory of a trip from when I was in elementary school.

◇

Your father loves to travel, but my father—your grandfather—loved to travel even more. He left Japan right after graduating from high school and spent years wandering overseas alone while working locally.
At that time, backpacking, let alone overseas travel, was not common, so I think it must have been a very harsh journey. But my father talked about his memories from that time with such genuine joy, as if in a dream. I thought as a child that my father's youth was truly in those overseas wanderings.

Perhaps trying to pass on the travel-loving gene, my father frequently took me on trips. We went on drives and to zoos, but there were also some unusual trips, like walking 100km over four days or visiting houses where my father used to stay.
I think it was when I was about 10 years old that I was taken to Europe for about three weeks, matching my entire summer vacation. Writing it like that might sound like a very luxurious story, but that's not the case. We never used tours, guides, or travel agencies; we secured transportation and accommodation locally, stayed at the homes of acquaintances from his backpacking days, and spent time cooking with ingredients bought at local supermarkets.Thinking about it now, maybe my father wanted me to re-experience his youth's travels. Anyway, it was completely different from the family trips one generally imagines, and it was a three-week trip with quite a few troubles.

As for me, I was sulking the whole time during the trip. I had a bored look on my face wherever we went, only touched my Game Boy, and complained about everything I was shown. It might have been the budding of my rebellious phase, or maybe I was just unhappy that I couldn't play with my friends during my summer vacation.
But in truth, I think it was largely because I didn't understand the language, was made to eat only unfamiliar foods, and didn't know a single place. I was dissatisfied with that environment.

One day, as the trip was nearing its end, we sat in an empty park in some country to have lunch. Although I had bought a sandwich at a stall, I thought that not eating was an expression of resistance, so I took only one bite, pushed it aside, and kept plucking grass from the lawn while looking down.
My father said it was delicious and offered me his share, but I ignored his call and continued weeding. Then my father suddenly shouted, 'Why?' And he also said, 'Am I wrong?' It sounded more like a painful lament than a reprimand to me.For some reason, I shed tears.

My father lost his own father when he was young and was raised by his mother alone. So, it seems he didn't really know what a father was or how to treat his son. Long after the family trip, when I became an adult, my father told me this while drunk.

Although I couldn't imagine it specifically as an elementary school student, I think I sensed my father's conflict somehow. But even if he said that, I didn't want to come overseas. It was full of strangers, full of things I didn't understand, and it was hard for me too.
Empathy, assertion, and misery were all mixed up, and I cried. Even though I was at an age where I thought crying was embarrassing, I cried out loud, sobbing just like you do when you're hungry, without caring who was watching. My father ate his sandwich in silence. Only the sound of my crying echoed in the empty park.

◇

The more things you can do, the more things you find you cannot. The more you reach out, the more you notice things that are out of reach. The further you go, the less you understand.

Around the time you grew your first two teeth, you started eating baby food. When you first put porridge in your mouth, you stopped moving for a moment, but then swallowed it with a solemn expression. Spinach, pumpkin, sweet potato, carrots, tofu, tuna, apples, yogurt. Your small bowl is colored with different shades every day, and you lean forward, opening your tiny mouth wide.
At first, you accepted everything, even biting down on my fingers instead of the spoon, but you seem to have developed your own preferences. You have a weakness for sour, red foods like tomatoes and strawberries, and you devour them as if you were inhaling them.On the other hand, you seem to have little interest in fish. I tried giving you sea bream to celebrate Children's Day, but you soon frowned, pressed your lips into a straight line, and refused it. Fish is recommended by us parents as a protein source, but you make a sour face at that too.

The only thing they have in common is that for the first attempt, you try to swallow any baby food at least once. Since there are countless foods in this world, I agree with that attitude.
It is a lot of fun to watch you learn to "eat" through trial and error. Since you started baby food, your body has become much firmer. Every time I put you in your baby chair, I feel like the belt is getting tighter. Your arms, which seemed like they would crumble if I grabbed them, now swing around wildly, and you don't even flinch when you hit your own face. Your white thighs are like freshly kneaded croissant dough, soft and squishy. I am happy that your body is growing, but I would be grateful if you could keep those thighs for a while longer.

You roll around as if bouncing, continuing to move while leaving a trail of drool. When I lie down next to you, you grab me without warning and pull my hair. Every night, a battle unfolds: you trying to jump into the water in the bath while I try to prevent it, and you pulling the drain plug while I try to put it back in.

The places you can go are expanding, and the things you can chew are increasing. You will eat more, your body will grow, and the places you can go will expand again. If this cycle continues, you will be walking in no time. I think your range of movement will continue to grow as you learn to run and ride a bicycle. It is a bit of a story for the future, but perhaps one day you will cross the ocean too.

And each time, you will be stunned.At how full of things you don't understand the world is, and how many places are out of reach.Like me when I was in elementary school, or like you unable to grab the banana in the toy box, there will be times when you feel frustrated and cry, or want to look away.

But I think that is fine. Rather than feeling like you understand everything immediately, it is actually more fun later on if you admit that you don't understand for now. I now believe that the true thrill of travel, which my father wanted to convey, lay in that very aspect.

◇

Twenty years have passed since that strange family trip. Perhaps it was my father's intention, but I ended up becoming a travel enthusiast. I wandered all over the world with a backpack on my back, and eventually even published a travelogue book. From the perspective of my elementary school self, that is an impossible future.

The reason I became so addicted to travel is that at some point, failing and not understanding things turned into a kind of pleasure.
When I go on a trip, nothing goes according to the plans I made in advance. When I live comfortably in Japan, I get caught in the illusion that I can do anything, but abroad, I can't speak the language, I can't even ride the bus properly, and I am filled with a sense of helplessness. I talk to the locals, and just when I think we've become friends, I get deceived and feel dejected. It's a cycle of that.

It feels as if the map I had relied on until now was only a part of a map many times larger. I am reminded again and again that the world is far wider than I had imagined. I will never forget the moments when I received such shocks.

This realization was very fresh, shocking, and also a pleasure. That is how I became a captive of travel. Surrounded by strangers, with so many things I don't understand. The very "lack of understanding" that I cried about as an elementary school student was the great charm of travel.

◇

When I published my travelogue, I sent a copy to my parents' house. In the acknowledgments at the end of the book, I wrote, "To my father, who instilled in me the magic of travel." It was also my first thank you in 20 years from the boy who cried while pulling out grass.

A few weeks later, an envelope arrived from my father. Inside were two letters. One was filled with quotes from the book, with various thoughts noted, such as what he thought of this passage or how this expression touched his heart. And on the other letter, these words were written.

“Thank you for bringing back the memories of my travels since I was 19, which had been buried at the bottom of my memory. You have ignited my desire to wander.”

My 71-year-old father seems to be continuing his travels. I am sure you will too. You will find that things don't go as planned, and you will realize your own smallness. Such moments will surely visit you countless times from now on.

Even so, just as you charge ahead at your teething ring, or take on your first baby food, you should walk without fear. There will be times when you roll too far, and times when things taste bitter. There will be times when you cannot reach the banana that looked close by.That is where the journey begins.After feeling down for a while, let's reach out again. If you can't reach it, let's worry and think about it together. Just like a desk has bumps and hollows on the underside, there is more than one route.

The moment you move your head and find a new angle. The moment your neck becomes steady and you see the view from a vertical perspective. Or the moment you roll over and move forward a little with your right foot. You were surprised and you definitely smiled. I want to remember those scenes, and I want to tell you about them when you grow up.

The bald spot on the back of your head is a medal of honor from your journey.

Notice:
A book based on this note has been published by Shogakukan."To You at One Year Old and the Banana" It is titled, and it contains the days I spent with my child while taking a one-year childcare leave. Just like this note, the entire text is written as a letter to my child (you). Please feel free to read it if you would like.