Twenty years old. The last train I boarded, longing for freedom.

Once I turn twenty and get a job... I'm moving out.

I had decided that since I was a child.

It was one evening.

I finally finished packing.

The things I was taking were fewer than I expected.

A few changes of clothes and some toiletries.

It was a small enough amount that there was still space in my large duffel bag.

I grabbed it and set off.

So, that's that. Thanks for everything. Goodbye.

By chance, I was caught by my father, so I gave him a quick greeting.

My father was stunned.

What are you suddenly talking about?

My father's voice might have been shaking more than usual at that moment.

Suddenly? I had talked to Mom about it before, though?

I haven't heard anything!

...

Was Mom unable to tell him?

Or,

as usual,
was he not listening to people at all?

Well, ask Mom then. The train will be gone soon, so I'm going.

As I tried to leave,

Wait! I won't allow it!

And, I was stopped.

With a sigh of... hah.
I answered as calmly as I could.

“...I thought I’d been saying for a long time that this is what I wanted to do?”

My father’s expression froze over more and more.

“...Anyway. Thank you for everything up until now.”

I grabbed my luggage and let my father’s angry shouting wash over me.

Clang!
Just like that, I left the house.

...Why?

Why is it turning into a situation where I’m the selfish daughter...?

I had intended to have my mother’s consent on this matter from quite a while ago.

What was it that made my father suddenly start making such a fuss...?

I walked briskly down the empty, silent night road.

While heading to the station.

Words kept coming to mind one after another.
And they kept swirling around inside my heart.

Isn’t that weird?

Why are you only strict with me?

Even though you left me to my own devices.

Mom, didn’t you say you were on my side?

Every time I thought things like that,
I gripped my cheap, pitch-black duffel bag tighter.

I think it was the subway that I boarded... but,

actually, I don’t really remember.

It was pitch black outside, after all.

The reflection of myself in the train door
looked terribly miserable and uncool.

It was too pathetic to even look at.

It was an empty last train.

A salaryman who was drunk and asleep.
A couple out for the weekend.

Maybe everyone had their own drama.
It’s just... at that time, I didn’t have the luxury to imagine such things.


I had no significant savings.
I didn’t have any luxury brand items, or anything at all.

I was just a young, cringey woman.

A woman like that.

Once again, I had nothing.
I lived in a one-room apartment, six tatami mats in size, and without a bath.

I moved into the room of a man like that.

That was all there was to it.


The apartment was, in any case, old and smelled of mold.
Oh, and the smell of cigarettes was soaked into everything too.

The door was made of wood, and the edges were rotting.

There was a loft, but it was arched like the entrance to some palace.

The toilet was, of course, a Japanese-style squat toilet.
Oh, it was at least a flush toilet.

Though, in appearance, it wasn't much different from a pit latrine.

There was no gas water heater either, so I washed dishes with cold water. (lol)

Late at night, I could even hear the sound of the neighbors playing mahjong.
I could even hear their snoring and farting.

I'm sure our sounds were completely audible to them as well.

For baths, I went to the local public bathhouse.

Just like in the song "Kandagawa," we waited for each other.
Though, usually, I was the one keeping him waiting. (lol)

……Well.
Anyway, it was a poor, but fun time.

Even if we stayed up all night going to karaoke until morning.

Even if I spent the whole day playing with friends.

Even if we went out drinking.

No one would get angry at us, after all.

Every day was exciting.
I was full of a sense of liberation.

Even the inconveniences felt fresh.

Every time something broke, we would roll around laughing.


Living like that.

More than my father.
I would sometimes think of my mother.

For some reason, my chest would ache.


Even though I had sought freedom so much.
Why did I end up feeling that way?

Even now, I don't really know the reason.



More than 30 years have passed since then.

Now, I am blessed with a home, a life, and a family.
I am managing somehow, in my own way.


But…….

At times.

That time, which was both inconvenient and free.

For some reason…… I find myself feeling unbearably nostalgic and even a bit sad.

A poor life in a shabby apartment without a bath.
It was pretty tough, you know. (lol)

If.
If I could live alone now.

Toilet aside, I definitely wouldn't want to go without a bath. ☹️🥹

The end. ♬

★ "Chibi Creative Award"
This time, I wrote an essay about my youth in the Showa era to participate in Kawamura-san's project.

★ "What freedom means to you"
This is the theme handled by Akane-san.
It might not really be an answer to "What is freedom?" though. 😅

Nyanchi-san, thank you so much for all your trouble. 🙇
Thank you as always. 🥹