3. My Diary [Purple Dead-nettle]

Usually, my wife is in charge of taking our children to nursery school.

However, today is my day off from work.

I make it a point to take them to nursery school on my days off.

The snow has completely melted, and strong spring winds have begun to blow.

Butterbur sprouts are growing everywhere now.

The pheasant's eye flowers have also scattered.

In the garden where the greenery is starting to show its color, my daughters harvest small flowers.

"Daddy! What is the name of this flower?"

I don't know either, so I will look it up.

It seemed to be a plant called the purple dead-nettle.

It's a cute name.

Princess Dancer Grass.

In spring, it grows like a weed, unnoticed by anyone, blooming with tiny, tiny flowers.

There are many families in this town.

I imagine there is a princess in every home who has been cherished and loved.

Once they go out into the world, they mingle with others and lose sight of their own uniqueness.

When I think of it that way, even these weed-like flowers start to seem incredibly adorable.

The plucked flowers become small bouquets, placed on the garden's stone pavement, and eventually wither away.

My daughters and I pick up the newly bloomed flowers and make new bouquets.

The wind blows, the rain falls, and the withered bouquets disappear somewhere, and each time, my daughter says,

Huh? The flowers I put here are gone!

And she feels a little sad.

Touching nature nurtures sensitivity.

I watch over that.

We are different people, and while you are not special to the world, you are my everything.

Taking root, stretching leaves, and connecting to the future.

I believe that the entirety of that process is the essence of plants.

I don't know if I can protect everything about you, but I must protect the future.

My little dancers.

Please bloom here again next year.