The Mushroom-Shaped Shadow Connects My Mother and Me

On a sunny day, while walking down the street to run a quick errand,
the shadow cast on the road had a silhouette that looked just like my mother.

From the time I first remember her until she passed away, my mother kept the exact same hairstyle.
It was a semi-long cut with curled bangs.
The bangs weren't curled inward, but parted in the center and swept outward and upward on both sides (I hope you get what I mean!).
At home, she always wore pink hair rollers.

My mother passed away about eight years ago.
Her pride and joy—her thick, glossy black hair—fell out due to chemotherapy, and although it grew back, it never returned to the way it used to be.
She always regretted that.
Since she had distinct facial features, a short haircut would have suited her well,
but she used a wig and never changed her signature hairstyle until the very end.

Perhaps it's genetic, given our hair texture and facial contours; my older sister is the same,
and I look just like her too (though my face is different and I don't have curled bangs).
Seeing that shadow, I couldn't help but smile.

I am 44 years old now.
I wondered how old I was when my mother was 44.
Since there is a 30-year age gap between us, I was 14.
That's exactly the age of my eldest daughter now.
Oh my, I'm still so young... (mentally).
Well, maybe my mother felt the same way at that age.

I was just talking to my daughter about this the other day—a story from back then.
It was an era before mobile phones.
On the way to my junior high school entrance ceremony by car, I realized there was something I needed to confirm with the school regarding my belongings.
It was a tricky distance to go back home, and we were in a hurry.
There were no public phones nearby either.
Without hesitation, she pulled the car over to the side of the road, went to a stranger's house, and asked to borrow their phone.
Back then, most households had a landline in the entryway (ours was a rotary phone, per my mother's preference), and I remember it was common to borrow and lend them to acquaintances.
The Town Page was too thick, so there were also local phone books.
Sometimes you'd pay 10 yen, sometimes you'd be refused and wouldn't pay—and so on.
We managed to resolve the issue and head to the ceremony, but the fact that I remember this means it must have been a 'You're really doing that?!' kind of moment for me as a junior high student.
But now, I have become a mother with enough nerve to ask a stranger to let me use their phone in an emergency.

Ah, even though I'm still young, I am getting older.
Before my life comes to an end,
will I be able to do everything I want to do?
That thought suddenly crossed my mind.

If I manage to do what I want, new things I want to do will just appear next.
In the end, it's impossible to finish everything.
By doing the small things I want to do and building them up,
I hope it leads to the big 'things I want to do' that will occupy the main part of my life from here on out.

Today, too, I will do what I want to do.