To wrap pain and memory in an embrace.

When I finished work and stepped out of the building, I felt the season progressing, as the brightness still lingered despite the drifting presence of twilight.
Looking up at the sky, stained with orange and pale purple, I saw several contrails drawn against a backdrop of soft, light blue.

As I followed the trails of the contrails with my eyes, the sky felt round.
I still remember the days of my childhood when I noticed that and traced the marks of the clouds with my eyes over and over, but I felt a sense of wonder as to why I would keep such a trivial event in my memory.

The sight of the white spider lilies that bloomed every year along the path to school.
The shape of the pincushion and pins that were in my grandmother's sewing box.
The color of the eyes of a sparrow that stood still in front of our gate, unable to fly.

I often recall small things that could easily slip from my palms at any moment, or scenes from ordinary days that everyone in my family has forgotten. Thinking about whether I will never forget them because I still remember them now, or whether I will suddenly forget them one day, I feel a vague sense of loneliness.

It was only for a short time, but when I was in my teens, there was a period when memories of the past fell away.
Perhaps the word 'fell away' is not quite right.
People around me perceived it as having lost my memory, but it wasn't that they were lost; I had unconsciously buried them deep in my heart so that I couldn't recall them.

If I didn't forget the painful things, I wouldn't be able to walk the path ahead.
If the painful memories disappeared, the wounds themselves would cease to exist.
It was because I was so convinced of this that the disorder occurred.

I can think of it that way now looking back, but at the time, I couldn't even keep up with understanding the state of my own heart and memories.

I lived with the anxiety that I was no longer myself, and as the outlines of my emotions became blurred along with my memories, I spent my days like an empty shell.

Even in the midst of that, the thought that I loved books remained, and I often visited the library.
Only while reading books did I not have to think about the past or the future.
Looking back on those days, I can only vaguely remember how I felt.
However, the scene of the day when I opened a book by the library window where the sunlight streamed in, and saw the green of the trees shining when I finished reading and looked outside, is etched in my heart as a happy memory.

When was the day I became okay with remembering the memories I had buried?
In the days of gradually regaining my emotions, before I knew it, I was able to speak about the past.
And I felt as if I understood the meaning of the phrase 'time heals all wounds'.

When I look closely, the scars certainly remain, but the throbbing pain is already gone, and the memory of when those wounds were inflicted has also lost its clarity.
It doesn't mean they never happened, but there are certainly things that fade away in the flow of time.

I saw the edge of a contrail disappearing, and I started to think that it would be nice if scars didn't just fade but disappeared without a trace, but then I corrected myself, thinking, 'No, it's okay if they don't disappear.'

If I had had even one different experience, the 'me' of today would not exist here.
Surely, all the events of the past were necessary, and I am shaped by what I have seen, heard, and touched.
Even if it is a memory accompanied by pain, it is an important part of myself, so if I remember it, I want to hold it as if wrapping it in the palms of my hands.

And, just as much as events that leave a strong impression, the small memories of casual days are also precious.

Things we see as a matter of course can suddenly disappear one day. Even if we think we are looking at the same scenery we see every day, in reality, it is impossible for it to be exactly the same.

When I think that the things remaining in my memory can never be encountered again in many ways, each one feels as if it is filled with light.

It is impossible to remember everything, and forgetting is also a natural part of living.
However, even if one were to forget, the things experienced in the past and the feelings that colored the heart are engraved in that person's life, and I believe they never truly disappear.

As I watched the sky slowly approaching the color of night, the phrase 'today will never come again' came to mind.

Will there come a time when I look back nostalgically on this day, when I let my thoughts wander like this?
Imagining that time, I felt like I wanted to keep this scene in my eyes a little longer, so I stopped for a while and gazed at the darkening sky.