My Spring

When my daughters were still small,

my eldest daughter was already a very considerate child back then,
and my second daughter was in her most energetic phase
before she developed her current illness.

I used to drop my daughters off at daycare
and work a nine-to-five part-time job.

I would wake up, make breakfast, get myself ready,
wake everyone up, and since small children don't really
eat breakfast properly,
I'd just shove whatever I could into their mouths,
help them get dressed...
Things rarely went smoothly.
We were always rushing out of the house.
Back then, they didn't fuss much when we arrived at daycare, so that was a relief...

By the time I reached my workplace, I felt somehow
exhausted, yet I still got through my work,
and then I'd rush off to pick them up from daycare.

Once I finally got home, it was time to prepare dinner,
give them baths, clean up, and prepare for the next day.

It sounds simple when written down,
but in reality, it was always
a hectic daily grind.

If they were unwell, I'd take them to the hospital,
worrying over my children who looked so miserable,
and my only precious
weekday off, which I had finally reached with relief,
would end up being spent taking my mother-in-law
here and there because of her phone calls.

I had absolutely no breathing room.

365 days a year,
every day was hectic and exhausting.

Even though I didn't intend to neglect my days,
the day would end as if it were rushing by like a torrent.

While hanging up the laundry in a room lit only by dim light
after putting the children to bed,
tears would suddenly spill out.
While sobbing,
I would still keep working without stopping,
there were many times when I just had to do things calmly.

Even in the midst of all that, there were many moments
when interacting with my children became my salvation.

One day, I think it was over something trivial,
but I laughed out loud during an exchange with my child.

For me, it was such a truly small thing
that I don't even remember it.

That day, just like any other,
I arrived at daycare in a rush,
got swept up in the routine after returning home,
and was just about to collapse into bed like a dead person,


when I realized I had forgotten to look at the daycare communication book.
The comment from the teacher was


written longer than usual.

"Mom, thank you for your hard work every day.
Today, as soon as your eldest daughter arrived at daycare,
she ran up to me and said,

'Teacher! Guess what, something really good happened! Yesterday, Mommy laughed for me!'

She told me this happily while jumping up and down. Your eldest daughter really
loves your smile, Mom!"

It was written in such detail that I could picture
exactly what happened that day.


Before I even finished reading, I was crying
out loud.


I must have always had a demonic look on my face.


'Eat faster! Get changed faster!
Take a bath faster! Faster! Faster!'
Everything was like that.

During that spring, I hadn't even noticed that the cherry blossoms were blooming...
I didn't know about the refreshing breeze blowing,


or the exciting, pleasant weather,
I knew nothing of it.

I would rush through the relaxing time with my children, who had worked so hard to get through the day as little ones,

and the only thing I did every night, reading to them,
became nothing more than a way to get them to sleep.

To my daughters sleeping soundly,
I said, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' over and over,
on those nights I apologized many times.

The following year,
my second daughter fell ill.

It was spring again.

I should have savored the precious time
with my little children so much more.

Even though wishing for it now is useless...

I used to love spring.
Even now, there are times when I can say I love it.

But,
sometimes the cherry blossoms, the spring, tighten my chest.


Forgetting to smile because of the desperation of daily life,
making my children
feel lonely,

and the pain of realizing that what I took for granted
was never a given.

The cherry blossoms, like symbols of hope,
pass their full bloom,
and scatter wildly in the spring breeze.

That is so painful and grips my heart.

In the nearly 20 years since then,
I have come to be able to feel the joy of spring many times.

...If my heart is healthy.

If I were the kind of person who could stay positive no matter what,
who could face trials,
if I were that lighthearted and strong.

This year's cherry blossoms have long since fallen,
and the leaves are lush and green,

yet now, spring is tormenting me.
...If I let my guard down, this is what happens...

I am weak right now...

This spring, my eldest daughter

said, "You know, I really love cherry blossoms."
She looked up at the cherry tree,

which was in its final full bloom,
with green leaves just starting to show,
and her profile as she gazed up
was already that of a fully grown woman.

Seeing that, my heart tightened once again.