“I did my best back then”

For Kaze no Boushi-san's membership
September's theme

“I did my best back then”
“Memories of facing adversity without giving up”
“I was great for not running away back then”

I will face myself regarding this ^ ^

I don't have many memories of “doing my best” within me.
It's not that I haven't been doing my best all along, though.

There have been various tough times, but I don't have memories of having overcome them—! either.
I guess I wasn't looking at myself properly.

Even so, looking back, there was something I remembered ^ ^

I am an only child, but when my daughter was born, we lived on the second floor of a two-story wooden apartment building.

It was a 1LDK corner unit that wasn't very large, but it had great sunlight.

Living on the first floor directly below us was a man who seemed to be a student.

Thinking we might cause a disturbance when my daughter was born, I went with my mother to greet him.
I remember thinking he was a rather unfriendly young man.

In the apartment next to ours, there was also a boy born in the same year as my daughter.

As my daughter grew, she started to walk. (It's only natural, of course)
When she first started walking, she enjoyed it so much that she would toddle around inside the house. (It's only natural, of course)

Around the time my daughter started walking like that, the sound of her footsteps inevitably echoed.
She would also fall on her bottom.

Then one day, there was a sound from the room below, like someone poking the ceiling with a thud.
It was a sound clear enough that even my daughter, who was one year old at the time, reacted to it.

Whether it was day or night, whenever my daughter walked, I could hear that sound.
It seems the boy living below was a medical student or something similar.

He must have been irritated by my daughter's footsteps.

While I felt sorry, I also felt terrified.
I was often alone with my daughter during the day (naturally), but except on days when it was pouring rain, I would go out to the park early in the morning and let her nap there, trying to keep her from walking inside the house as much as possible.

I also laid out tatami mats that my husband had received over the flooring, and kept futons spread out on top of them, making efforts so that even if my daughter walked or fell inside the house during the day, the sound wouldn't echo downstairs.

Even so, the resident below wouldn't stop poking the ceiling.

We had the real estate agent intervene and held a discussion with the resident below.
The real estate agent contacted the resident below and brought him to my room, but his attire at the time was just boxers and a T-shirt.
He wouldn't look me in the eye at all, and although I spoke to him while feeling scared, it didn't feel like we could communicate.
I remember telling him that we were doing everything we could, so I was sorry, but please understand.

However, that resident was doing whatever he wanted. He would invite many friends over in the middle of the night to have loud parties, or perhaps because he was drunk in the middle of the night, he would play music at high volume that echoed throughout the neighborhood, leading the police to show up.

I had felt sorry, but it seemed the resident below himself had some problems as well.

My husband was away at work during the day and came home late at night, so he rarely heard the sound of being poked with a stick.
Even when I talked to him, he was preoccupied with work and wouldn't do anything at all like trying to discuss this issue with the resident below. (That's just his personality, though)

While all this was going on, the resident below moved out.
Whether he had found a job or what, I remember feeling very relieved.

Back when I could still have conversations with my daughter, I would stop her from running around inside the house by saying, "The older brother downstairs will hear you."
I remember how she would do tiny little jumps when she wanted to jump for joy inside the house.

Looking back now, I think I really put a lot of pressure on my daughter.

But then again, maybe it was for the best since children shouldn't be making noise inside the house anyway.

Perhaps because she spent her baby years mostly on a futon, she developed strong legs and was a relay runner from elementary school all the way through junior high (laughs).

If we had had the money back then, we could have considered moving, but since we got married with absolutely no savings, we were drowning in debt and every day was a struggle.

I wonder, does that count as doing my best, too?

When the neighbor downstairs moved out and my daughter was about to enter her final year of kindergarten, I was finally able to get a part-time job in the neighborhood.

I remember that back then, the screening process for daycare was very strict, and only people who were self-employed could really get their children into one.
It was impossible to put her in daycare just so I could work part-time.
My husband only had Sundays off, and on top of that, I never knew what time he would come home each night, so I didn't have the option of working on his days off or working early mornings or late at night.

Both my husband's parents and my own parents lived very far away, so it was impossible to leave the children with them.
I was essentially raising my child entirely on my own.

It was a nerve-wracking environment, and my daughter's early childhood was spent under financial hardship, but I remember that we still had fun in our own way.

Even in strong winds, if we went to the park, we could meet energetic children, and since my daughter loved to run, she would run around with the boys.

The boy in the apartment next door would play with her, and since I would talk to them about things happening in our apartment, the neighbors would always invite us over to play.

It was a moment of relief for me, too.

Noise while raising children is a really difficult issue.
I felt sorry for the student who couldn't concentrate on their studies, but I can't help but think that if we had both made some adjustments, we might have been able to get through it.

After that student moved out, there were no problems with the person who moved in next.
I suppose it might be because my daughter had grown up by then.

I learned a lot from all of this.
I wonder if this counts as having overcome it.

Children grow up, after all.
Even if you are struggling with raising children, time just keeps moving forward ^ ^

#GardenOfWords