[#65: Landscapes Outside of Memory]
Within me, there is a time 'from back then' that I have no memory of. It was when I was a baby, a time before I knew words, when crying was my only way to understand the world. What did I see and feel back then? What colors did the world before my eyes reflect, and what sounds echoed through it?
My mother often tells me stories about when I was a baby. I always feel a lump in my throat when she laughs and says, 'You cried so much at night, it was really tough.' While holding me as I cried myself to sleep, she must have spent many sleepless nights herself. I have no memory of that. Yet, I feel that the sense of security in my mother's arms remains deep within me like a small seed.
As I grew, my memories gradually expanded and became more vivid. However, the beginning—the time outside of my memory—is an important part of my life, yet it remains like a mystery hidden in the fog. When I catch a glimpse of a 'me' I don't know through photographs and family stories, an indescribable, strange emotion wells up in my chest.
For example, there is a photo in an album of a young me sitting and smiling. In the background, old furniture and a cupboard that is no longer used are visible. When I think about how much love and daily life that scene was built upon, my heart warms at this 'era outside of memory' that I don't know. And I feel as if the warmth of the hands that raised me back then still envelops me even now.
Because I have no memory of it, I feel that back then, I was completely dependent on others. If I cried, someone would pick me up; if I felt hungry, someone would feed me. That 'someone' was my mother, my father, and my grandparents. The time they spent protecting and loving me forms the roots of who I am as a person.
In fleeting moments, when I think about that time outside of my memory, I strongly feel how much I have been supported by so many people. The love that certainly existed in a past I have forgotten—realizing that this love continues to reach me today fills my heart.
We cannot know ourselves from the time before we had memories. Even so, I can sense that that era truly existed through the words others speak and through photographs. And I believe that the invisible power supporting the person I am today began back then.
The landscape outside of my memory is an eternal mystery to me, and a warm light. That light continues to shine quietly in the depths of my heart even now.