I want to meet the version of myself from before I had children

I found myself wishing I could meet the version of myself from before I had children.

It is not that I have any regrets.
It is not that I dislike my current life.
It is not that I want to return to a life without my daughter.

Even so, I suddenly felt a desire to meet her.

It started when I ran out of storage space on my smartphone.
I decided to organize my photos and began scrolling back through my photo folder.

Sports day.
Shichi-Go-San.
Last year's birthday.
The birthday the year before last.

My daughter's body gets a little smaller with each photo.

Ah, there was a time like this, too.
She was still so small back then.
I thought to myself as I moved my fingers.

Then, at a certain point, my daughter suddenly disappeared from the photos.

It was a photo of the sky, taken before my daughter was born.

Photos from when I didn't have children

For starters, there were very few photos from before my daughter was born.
Most months only had a few pictures.

Now, before I know it, my smartphone storage is full of photos of my daughter.

There are many photos that look the same.
A slight smile.
A funny face.
A sleeping face.
A face eating a meal.
On the way home from nursery school.
The park.
Going out.
An ordinary day.

But in the photos from before my daughter was born, that is not the case.
Everything captured was truly just ordinary things.

A blurry dish.
Station stairs I can't remember where they were.
The evening sky.
A photo from when I went out for drinks with friends.

Why did I take pictures of things like this?
I wondered.

But I think there probably wasn't any reason.

Because I thought it was beautiful.
Because I just felt like taking a picture.

Not to send to anyone, not to keep a record, I was just taking pictures of what I was looking at.

I think I had that kind of time back then.

It is not that I want to go back

My finger stopped on a certain photograph.

It was a photo taken with friends at an izakaya. I was laughing with my mouth open, my hair was a bit messy, and I was probably reasonably drunk.

The person in the photo had a face that looked like they weren't thinking about tomorrow at all. Seeing that face made me feel a little strange.

I want to go back. That is not what I meant. This is truly not about wanting to go back.

Even if I try to imagine a life without my daughter, I can no longer picture it well. A world without the face of my daughter running from the nursery school gate in the evening. A house without the voice of her acting spoiled before bedtime. A holiday where I am not called out to with 'Daddy, look.'

I can no longer imagine such days as the person I am now.

That is why I do not want to go back. I just thought that I wanted to meet her.

The person I was before I had children.

'Wanting to go back' and 'wanting to meet' are different

'Wanting to go back' and 'wanting to meet' feel a little different. 'Wanting to go back' feels like a word that denies the present.

But 'wanting to meet' might be a word that acknowledges that the person is no longer here.

I do not want to go back to the person I was before I had children. But I can no longer meet the person I was back then.

The way I spent my time, the way I spent my money, how I spent my holidays, and what I captured in photos were all different. What I was thinking about and what I was worried about were completely different from now.

After my child was born, I became a father. That is a very big thing.

But even after becoming a father, I thought that the person I was before had not completely disappeared.

However, looking at photos from the past, I felt that I was indeed gradually becoming more distant.

Things that are hard to call lost

Since my child was born, I have gained many things. There are countless things. Because my daughter is here, there are sceneries I have come to see. There are feelings I have come to experience. There is happiness I have come to know.

But on the other hand, I think there are things I have lost as well.

Free time.
Holidays spent going out without a care in the world.
Nights spent solely for myself.
The kind of space where you take a photo just because the sky is beautiful.

Those things have certainly changed little by little.

But when you have children, it's hard to simply call that a 'loss'.

If I say something like that, it feels like it might be taken as, 'So, would it have been better not to have children?'
I feel like that's how it would be perceived.

But that's not what I'm talking about.
Not at all.

I'm glad I have my children.
I truly feel that way.

Even so, there are days when I want to meet the version of myself from before I had children.

I think it's okay for those two feelings to exist at the same time.

If I could meet my past self

If I could meet the version of myself from before I had children, what would I say?

I probably wouldn't offer advice or nag.

'You should enjoy your freedom while you can.'
'It's going to get tough soon.'
'Everything will change once you have a child.'
I don't want to say things like that either.

I, who know what lies ahead, don't want to interfere with my past self.

If I am laughing without knowing anything, I want me to keep laughing.
If I am drinking without a thought for tomorrow's plans, I want me to fully enjoy that time.
I think I would just sit next to me.

And I think I would ask just one thing.
'Why did you take a picture of that sky?'

I'm sure the me from back then would answer,
'Just because.'
I think that's what I would say.

But that 'just because' seems a little dazzling to me now.

Most of the photos I take now are of my daughter.

I closed the photo folder.
In the end, I didn't really free up any space on my phone.

I can hear my daughter's voice from the next room.
I stand up and return to my usual self.
Preparing meals, giving her a bath, getting ready for bed.

The usual daily routine continues.

My photo folder is full of my daughter now.
There are many photos that look the same.
The same smile.
The same pose.
The same sleeping face.

There are probably many photos I could delete.
But I can't.
Because in every single one of them, my daughter is there as she was that day.

And I am there, too.
Even if I'm not in the picture, I am the one taking it.

The me who is watching my daughter.
The me who wants to capture my daughter's growth.

It is the current me, different from the me who didn't have children yet.

Even so, sometimes I want to remember.

I found myself wishing I could meet the version of me from before I had children.
That is not because I regret the present.

I truly cherish the days I spend with my daughter.

But the version of me before I became a father was certainly there, too.

The me who used to take pictures of nothing but the sky.
The me who used to laugh with friends without a care in the world.
The me who used to spend time only for myself.

That person is no longer here in the same form.
But I don't think they have completely disappeared either.

Sometimes they peek out from within the photos,
reminding me,
"We had times like this, didn't we?"

That day, the sky on the way home from our outing was quite beautiful.
Usually, I would have taken a picture of my daughter.

But that day, I pointed my camera at the sky.
While remembering, just a little, the version of me from before I had children.
And then, I went home and took a picture of my daughter again.