Go Beyond the Corpses of Cherry Blossoms

April, 25 years ago. I used my new graduate status to join a small local printing company, only to be fired after just one month.

Was I foolish? At the time, I was arrogant about the power of my "new graduate status from a local junior college that was favorable for job hunting." Even though, once you step one foot outside the prefecture, that status is worth no more than a scrap of paper.

Despite being hired as a new graduate, I wore bell-bottom-like jeans and commuted every day just barely on time. I didn't just take society for granted... I had easily crossed the boundaries of what it meant to be a working adult. I dismissed it back then as the folly of youth, but as the years go by, I feel embarrassed whenever I remember that time.

Go out into society, work, get married, give birth, and raise children. I longed for the life of "normalcy" that people talk about. I lived in a region that preached that as happiness.

I won't go to the city. It costs money, and I can't rely on my parents. ...Or rather, it seems my parents don't want me to go far away either.

It would be a lie to say I have no longing for the city. But I don't have the courage to earn money just for the sake of money, or to spend my days feeling like I'm chewing on sand.

So, I decided to rely on the benefits of the countryside to the marrow of my bones. I would wear a large shield in a narrow world and swing a small sword. And so, as I quietly grew older—when I turned 25, I would find a "good person" and retire upon marriage.

A "good person" didn't mean someone tall or high-earning. It meant someone with a stable job, someone to whom the words "peace of mind, safety, and security" were appropriate. No one else decided that. I decided it on my own.

A man who could satisfy the average pentagon—what is commonly called "normal"—the kind I could proudly introduce to my friends, saying, "I'm marrying this person." I would have a boy and a girl with this pentagon man, rely on my in-laws' money to get land, and build a home. Then, while watching my in-laws' expressions, I would go out to work in a small way. I would live my own version of "normal."

However, just how difficult is it to obtain that "normal"? Normal was not universal. It required effort to grasp. It was always in April, when the cherry blossoms fell, that I was made to realize this.

Life is a series of unexpected events.

I was fired after one month from a company where I thought I would work until I retired. I became a part-timer and started working at a 100-yen shop. Six months later, I found another job. The moment I used my new graduate status, my days began to change dizzyingly, like a roller coaster.

At the interview for my new job, I was told, "Please work for at least until you are 27." Oh... I was so happy that I could work here for a long time. I decided to work hard. My "normal" starts here.

Even so, the hurdle for "normal" is high. Retiring at 25 upon marriage was difficult. Marriage hunting 20 years ago was an era where you couldn't even start dating unless you were liked by a man. I groaned at the height of that hurdle of "being liked by a man." The trouble was, the people I wanted to be liked by wouldn't look my way at all. While I was stamping my feet in frustration, the reports of "I got married" kept coming one after another.

Why is everyone else grabbing "normal"? Why is it so difficult for me to grab it?

◇

As I counted the falling cherry blossoms, I turned 31. I was impatient because I couldn't get married, so I went to see a fortune teller, who told me, "In your past life, you were a witch in the West. You brought strong magic into this world. If you start a business, you will succeed and gain immense wealth. However, because that power is so great, your marriage will be delayed. You will marry at 37."

The "normal" I had longed for was drifting further and further away.

I have to work for a while. I wanted to get married sooner. Will I be able to have children? This is different from the future I had envisioned. I don't want this kind of fate. They say fate changes or can be altered by effort, but when a different path actually appears, how should I make the effort? I just end up wandering around.

But a fate that feels like a trial teaches you awareness. Life isn't sweet enough to let you live by just surrendering to the flow. If you don't think, feel, and act, you won't be able to grasp the fate you desire. Or perhaps, if you don't give up, you might be able to grasp it after all.

◇

By the time I started to fear counting the years as the cherry blossoms fell, I had turned 37. Just as the fortune teller advised, I married my current husband. He was less of a pentagon and more of a person who vigorously overflowed from the frame. He might be a little different from the average person, but he is kind and loves his family more than anything. The moment I saw him looking shy at the place where we first met—I felt not just that he was a wonderful person, but that he was someone who could make me happy.

Before we were married, we wandered into a famous cherry blossom viewing spot. Seeing the blossoms in full bloom, my heart danced as I thought about the future ahead. Just around that time, we happened to see a model house nearby and, with unsteady steps, we entered the room. Feeling that fate had brought us to such a stylish interior, we bought it on the spot with perfect, unspoken synchronization.

Once we provided the down payment ourselves, a resolve was born to live here. There are things in fate that cannot be resisted, but there are also things that can be changed depending on your decisions. If you want to change your life, you should start by changing what you can. It was also in April that I learned that.

◇

Cherry blossoms are as fleeting and fragile as shallow dreams. They fall just two weeks after they begin to bloom. The peak of their full bloom passes in the blink of an eye, just like life.

A year later, the cherry blossoms bloom again. As if they had forgotten they had ever fallen.

—I will be reborn again and again. So, go beyond the corpses.

I think, how strong they are.

◇

Every time I see the cherry blossoms in full bloom, I reaffirm that I am glad I live here. Even when things are hard, even when I am feeling down. They will just bloom again. And I think that I want to work hard for this moment and welcome that day.

My daughter, who was born at this famous cherry blossom spot, has turned four. As soon as she sees the cherry blossoms, she spreads her tiny fingers and reaches out happily. She clenches her hands tight and then opens them.

My daughter cannot speak yet, but perhaps she felt something when she saw the cherry blossoms. She was trying to convey the charm of the cherry blossoms to me through gestures.

Living with hope. It sounds simple, but it is truly difficult. However, every time I see the cherry blossoms blooming proudly like a routine, even when flowers wither or die, or when branches seem about to break, I feel hope. It is okay to wither. Because they will bloom again. If you can hold onto hope, living should become fun.

From the time they begin to bloom faintly from the buds, to the full bloom, to the sight of the falling petals dancing. Every time I count the days and see my daughter's face soften at the changes in the cherry blossoms as spring arrives, I think: Ah, I am so glad I live here—.

[End]

I am participating in Mizuno-san's contest.
#ThingsIRememberWhenSpringComes