The Story of Meeting My Son After 10 Years

The story of how I, a high school girl, got married while still a student.

I imagine many of you might know me from this. This essay, which feels like a turning point in my life, has been read by so many people, and it is a fortunate piece that still receives wonderful feedback to this day. Hey Daisuke, are you watching? That was last year. It all started when I received a comment on the note mentioned above. "I am a teacher at a combined junior and senior high school. I am the advisor for the drama club, and I was wondering if you would allow us to turn this essay into a play?" My essay. A play. Thinking back on it now, it was very rude of me, but at first, I thought it was just a polite gesture and replied quite casually. I never imagined that my essay would be taken up in an educational setting; there was no way that could happen.

A few months later, I received another polite message from the teacher. "Could you please sign the performance permission form?" It was only after receiving such formal, official documents that I realized it was a serious offer. While feeling incredibly humbled, I signed my pen name for the first time in my life on the document, which included the venue and date of the performance. Even though it was only five characters, my hands shook with nerves, and I had to rewrite it many times. To think that something I wrote would be passed into someone else's hands and performed by students. An opportunity like this would never come again. Taking advantage of the moment and showing my thick-skinned nature, I asked if I could see it with my own eyes, and they kindly set aside a seat for me. I was so happy, so incredibly happy, that I felt like I would lose my mind if I didn't blurt out these feelings right away, so I called my grandmother. "Grandma, listen! The essay I wrote about my high school memories is being turned into a play, and high school and junior high school girls in Tokyo are going to perform it!" "What?! Emuko, are you becoming a junior high student?!" Grandma, Emuko is already in her late twenties. My grandmother didn't seem to understand a single thing about my sudden, out-of-the-blue story. I can understand her confusion, as I wouldn't believe it either if someone suddenly told me such a thing. I then explained the whole situation from start to finish while clearing up her misunderstanding. My grandmother didn't seem to fully grasp it, but in the end, she just said, "That's amazing," in a dazed tone. While I was very excited, I also had my worries. The performance was in Tokyo. In the summer of 2021, Tokyo was in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. The school and the students were working hard toward the performance while adhering to infection prevention measures and with very limited practice time. Even if I were asymptomatic and in perfect health, if I, working at a local medical institution, went to Tokyo and accidentally passed COVID on to the students? Or conversely, if I brought the virus back and infected my loved ones? Since an opportunity like this would never come again, I absolutely wanted to see it. However, considering the situation at the time, I couldn't bring myself to be so selfish. I really wanted to wait and see how things developed until the very last minute, but not wanting to leave the seat they had prepared for me empty, I contacted them a month in advance to say I would refrain from attending. I have had many painful experiences during the pandemic, but I had never felt such a deep, hollow emptiness before. I am sure that countless others besides me have had to give up on "once-in-a-lifetime" opportunities with a heavy heart. Just thinking about that made me feel like I was sinking to the bottom of an ocean of tears, crushed by the water pressure. Until the day of the performance, I spent every day feeling restless and uneasy. I prayed that the students would be able to practice safely. I could only face the direction of Tokyo, put my hands together, and pray. A few days after the performance, I received a DM from the advisor. Knowing that the performance went well and that they received an encouragement award at the regional competition, I felt a huge sense of relief. I was glad that the efforts of the students, who must have had to endure so much under the restrictions, had paid off. That alone was enough to save my heart. A month later, I received another DM, this time with a URL. "This is a video of the junior high students' performance. I hope you enjoy it." It was a warm gesture from the advisor. I made some tea, calmed my heart, and played the video. When my name, "Original work by Emuko Shioi," was announced at the start of the performance, my heart skipped a beat. It was the moment when the feelings that had been somewhat dreamlike and fuzzy until now took on reality. The students ran around the big stage energetically. Ah, that girl must be me, and that girl must be Mami. Since the script was reconstructed for the stage, although it was my own work, I enjoyed it as a new, single piece of work. "What should we name him?" "Hmm... Daisuke!" "Yeah, Daisuke it is!" My heart tightened at the name that flew from the student's mouth. I felt as if the son I had lost had jumped across time, from the Heisei era to the Reiwa era, to come and see me. My memories have passed into the hands of others and now remain here in the form of a play. And my memories have become someone else's memories. There were so many unbelievable miracles on that stage, and it was dazzling to me. I savored the lingering effect of those 50 minutes, which passed in the blink of an eye, many times afterward. The next day, I made pancakes for breakfast. They turned out better than usual, and they tasted exactly the same as that day 10 years ago.