11. A Nothing-Special Diary [Goodbye to the Fleabane]

Most of the magnolia flowers had already shed their petals and were spreading out their green leaves.

Even so, my daughter, who was able to reunite with the three or so remaining flowers, spoke to them lovingly and stroked them.

In the children's hands were many flowers and grasses.

Just a little while ago, they were happy with the Adonis flowers, but before I knew it, the area was crowded with plants.

With the ever-increasing number of new encounters, we sometimes draw close, sometimes feel bewildered, and sometimes overlook them.

Along our path, wood sorrel, cogon grass, and white clover appear, stopping the children in their tracks.

I try chewing on the wood sorrel.
It is a little sour.

I try chewing on the stem of the cogon grass.
This one is faintly sweet.

I didn't put the white clover in my mouth.

A little further away, there is a tall, white flower.

I know what it is.

That is a Philadelphia fleabane.

It's a flower that appeared in a BUMP OF CHICKEN song I used to listen to when I was young.

How did the lyrics go again?

…I think for a moment, but before I can remember, my two-year-old second daughter picks the flower.

She couldn't quite snap the stem, so she pulled it out by the roots, but she drags it along and runs off happily.

Oh dear….

I snap back to reality from my nostalgia in an instant, thinking that you really never know what a child will do, and follow after her.

Suddenly, I realize that my four-year-old eldest daughter has gone quite far ahead.

“Four-year-old! Come back!!”

I call out in a loud voice and chase after her.

Noticing that I have started to run a little, my second daughter also finds it fun and starts running too.

Then, on the way, her grip on the Philadelphia fleabane loosens, and it falls to the ground.

She stops about a meter away from it.

After a moment of hesitation, just for a split second,

“Bye-bye.”

My second daughter left the fleabane behind and ran toward her older sister.

The children are running ahead.

I, too, left the fleabane behind and ran.

After walking a fair distance in the spring breeze, my eldest daughter finally said,

"Carry me."

she said.

I picked up my eldest daughter and held my second daughter's hand.

On the way home, we walked while stepping to the side of the road to avoid the occasional passing car, taking turns giving piggyback rides, encouraging them to walk, and switching who I was carrying.

The children's hands were clutching various flowers.

And in my hands, I held my two children.

We encountered the fleabane my second daughter had dropped earlier, but since none of us had a free hand, we left that flower behind and went home.

I'm sorry.