The Blue Crayon

When I was in kindergarten, I loved to draw.
My drawings on construction paper were better than the teacher's.

I would draw waves and a sailboat, then the sun and clouds.
Then my mom, and a dog and a cat.
Everyone looks happy and is smiling.
Because I am happy when I am drawing.

I would carefully check the word "blue" on the crayon label and pick up the blue crayon. This is the color blue.
Because I have to color the sky and the sea.

The sky and the sea are blue. The sun is yellow. The rest, I chose the colors myself.

I kept all the labels on the crayons facing up so I could always see them.
So that when the teacher asked, I could answer the names of the colors in the pictures I drew.


The names of the colors were written on the back of the crayon case lid, and I lined up the crayons in that order.
If I changed this order, when the crayons got short, the labels would be gone and I wouldn't be able to answer. I had to be careful.

I thought that when I became an elementary school student, I would study the names of colors and kanji and become smart.

A while after I started elementary school, my homeroom teacher, Mr. Tanaka, called me to the nurse's office.
"Ogoshi-kun. Can you try to guess the numbers written inside these dots?"
"Teacher, these are things you learn in fourth grade, right? So I don't know them yet."
"I see, you don't know them yet."

It was a color vision test.

At the back of the classroom, the picture I drew during arts and crafts of the shrine grounds was displayed along with everyone else's, and mine was definitely the best. (Am I allowed to say that?)

But, the trees in the shrine grounds were all in autumn colors, even though it was spring.
They said everything except for the colors of the sky and clouds was nonsense.

The rumors about this picture spread in the blink of an eye throughout the school and the neighborhood.
That there was a poor child.
The countryside is actually quite cruel.

They said I wouldn't be able to drive a car and wouldn't be able to get a decent job (what is 'decent'?).
Let alone marriage, that's out of the question. Knock on wood, knock on wood.

Here, I have something I want to tell my elementary school self, who was always crying.

I think it's okay to cry as much as you want; you want to cry, don't you?
It doesn't matter at all if you think you want to die. You won't die.
Self-esteem, well, maybe it's better to have it, but if you don't have it, it can't be helped.
To hell with what society thinks.

You will become a middle school student and join a ball game club, which you weren't good at.
And then, in your third year of high school, your team will win the prefectural tournament.
Life on welfare ends here.

You will be able to go to university. You will be able to get a driver's license.
You will travel abroad alone and be able to get a normal job.

You will get married, have a daughter, build a small house, and buy a car (though it's on a loan).
Your daughter will grow up and end up living far away, but your daughter will have a baby boy. That boy's world will have colors just fine.
It will not skip a generation.

The things you think are absolutely impossible right now will mostly come true.
It's funny, because even things you couldn't even wish for will happen.
Hilarious.

One more thing.
Please cherish for the rest of your life the friend you will meet when you are a university freshman at your part-time job at a gas station, who will teach you the joy of motorcycles and punk rock.
Because you will regret it until you die.
(I'm threatening you with just this one thing.)

You are scheduled to live until the summer of 2022.

I don't know what happens after that, but I'm sure it will be okay.
Because you are not as weak as you think you are.