Yesterday, Asahi Cried

Yesterday, Asahi cried.

His eyes were fixed firmly on me,
as if he were trying to tell me something,
and he cried out loud with tears streaming down his face.

It was like water overflowing from a glass.

The trigger was
when Daddy said, "No snacks."

But it wasn't just that.

My son, Asahi, who will be five soon.

Seeing the theme "When you feel your child's growth" for a note event, I felt like writing about it.

As I write, I keep remembering last night over and over.

And someday,

I think I'll show this article to Asahi.

Until a little while ago, Asahi was always within a one-meter radius of Daddy wherever I went.

The washroom, the toilet, the bath—he wanted to be carried everywhere.

Even when playing in the living room, you wouldn't leave Dad's side for a second.

If I tried to put you down even for a moment, you'd cry out, "Hold me!"

Since I couldn't cook at all,
we set up a special chair so you could see Mom and Dad standing in the kitchen.

Asahi, you were always so reserved and shy.

Even when we went to the park, you wouldn't go near the playground equipment or play with other kids.

Even if there was a toy you really wanted to play with, you'd choose one that no one else was using.

And you'd keep glancing over, waiting for that other toy to become free.

When a stranger spoke to you, you wouldn't even make eye contact; you'd just bury your face in Dad's chest and wait for them to leave.

When you started nursery school, you cried every single day.

You were already crying the moment we got in the car.

When I dropped you off, you'd cling to me like a beetle, refusing to let go.

I had to force you off me just to go to work.

Those mornings were truly heartbreaking,

and I wanted to drop everything and go back to hold you.

And yet, look at you now.

The way you open the nursery school door and walk in all by yourself.

Saying "I'm going to the park!" as you put on your shoes and run around.

Shouting "A centipede appeared!" happily with your friends.

Declaring "I'm going to go pee!" in polite language before heading to the bathroom.

Inviting friends over and having fun building a secret base.

You've become able to play a lot even when Daddy isn't nearby, haven't you?

You can say when something is fun,

You can say when something is sad,

And you've become able to say when you don't like something.

Your shoes, which used to be 12cm, are now 17cm.

Before I knew it, you've grown so big.

Two years ago, your little brother was born, and Asahi became a big brother.

The clothes Asahi used to wear are now being worn by your little brother.

My younger brother always wants what you have and tries to take it, so you two often fight over that, don't you?

But thank you for giving in to him in the end.

Thank you for peeling the mandarin orange for your brother.

Thank you for getting water for your brother.

Thank you for playing with him.

You didn't act like a baby, but you had to endure a lot and felt lonely many times, didn't you?

And then, yesterday.

Mom was at work.

A Sunday with just Dad, Asahi, and your brother.

Playing in the water, going to the park, and eating meals.

I wanted you to have a fun time.

But there were so many things you had to do to accommodate your two-year-old brother.

Your brother comes to snatch the watering can you were playing with.

Your brother breaks the blocks you were building.

Your brother is the only one getting on the swing.

If you don't give in, your brother cries.

And so, Dad picks up my little brother and goes somewhere else.

I just want to have fun playing, but things never seem to go well.

My brother cries all the time, and Dad only ever looks at him.

I hadn't done anything wrong, but I felt awkward, like I had been scolded.

With all those things piling up, it was 8:30 at night.

"I want a snack!"

When Dad told me "No" firmly, something just overflowed.

Like water spilling from a cup, I couldn't stop the tears.

I looked straight at him and cried out loud.

It felt like I was trying to tell him something.

Asahi, who will turn five next month.

“Let’s do things for ourselves.”

“I want you to be kind to your little brother.”

Before I knew it, I had been making him act like a “big brother.”

To a four-year-old child.

Even though he’s still at an age where he wants to be spoiled.

I am an immature father.

Making such a small child

endure so much.

After that, I hugged Asahi for ten minutes.

In a quiet room. Just the two of us.

You were sad, weren't you?

You’re always holding back for me, aren't you?

You’re doing your best every day, aren't you?

Thank you for everything.

I told him this while reflecting on my actions.

Asahi was sobbing and crying the whole time.

After that, Asahi brushed their teeth on their own and fell asleep right away.

—No one is to blame—

To have fun, to do well, to want to do this, to not want to do that

Everyone is just thinking that way.

But it doesn't go well.

I have made both Asahi and my younger brother feel sad and lonely.

Of course, I can't make it zero. I know that.

I feel pathetic and sad, wondering if there was a better way to do things.

I really wanted us all to get along and have fun, but I couldn't do it.

Feeling heartbroken and sad, I held Asahi in my arms and fell asleep.

How long will you keep asking me to hold you?

How long will you keep holding my hand?

How long will you keep taking baths with me?

How long will you keep playing with me?

Before that 'someday' comes, what can I, your dad, tell you, Asahi?

That life is fun.

That the world is beautiful.

That people are kind, and it's okay to rely on them.

There is so much I want to tell you.

But I feel like I haven't even reached the starting line yet.

At the very least,

I want to tell you that even when we get angry or fight, I love you, Asahi.

I want to tell you that meeting you has made my world look beautifully and vividly different.

They say parents love their children, but

I truly feel that children love their parents unconditionally even more.

No matter how imperfect or immature a parent may be, children accept and love them completely.

Daddy has learned about love once again.

Asahi.

Your happy smile,

Your serious expression,

When you're dancing around playfully,

And your tearful face when you're frustrated,

Everything about you is precious.

To have such a precious and beloved being in my life

is the greatest happiness of all.

Thank you so much for being born.

I have always loved you, and I always will.

From a 37-year-old dad