Hiroshima After 10 Years | A Photo Retrospective

I recently returned to my hometown of Hiroshima. To be precise, it is no longer my "home," but that story gets complicated, so I will set it aside for now.

Hiroshima after 10 years (or maybe even longer) was, first of all, a place I didn't recognize the moment I stepped out of the Shinkansen exit. The station had changed tremendously.

It seems the streetcars are going to be routed directly into the station.

Right after I arrived, the thing that got me most excited was a comment from a local Hiroshima person who was taking photos.

"Oh no, it won't reach!" followed by a burst of laughter.

They said "tawan" and were laughing.

It's a dialect that always gets blank stares from everyone in Tokyo. They were using it naturally and laughing. I'm back!!! My Hiroshima blood started racing all at once.

By the way, "tau" means "to reach." So, "tawan-waa" means "it won't reach."

It seems they were trying to take a picture of the tracks under construction that I showed you earlier, from over the wire fence.

The Hiroshima dialect is so comforting.

Hiroshima Station was quite crowded, partly because a new commercial facility had been built. I wanted to enjoy it a bit more, but I'm not good with crowds, so I headed to my hotel early.

Flustered by the streetcar after all this time, I somehow managed to board and headed first to the Genbaku Dome-mae station.

Having completely turned into a tourist, I was looking around nervously. On top of that, I couldn't stop grinning. This must be what it means to return to one's childhood.

I got off at Genbaku Dome-mae and headed straight for this, of course.

No matter how many times I see it, I get a stinging sensation deep in my chest. I couldn't capture it in a photo, but there was also a lot of rubble around.

However, the Atomic Bomb Dome was also full of tourists (including me). So, without any time to dwell on it, I walked away quickly.

I don't really know why, but I tried taking pictures of everything everyone else was taking pictures of. I am a full-fledged tourist.

Although it was unfortunately a cloudy day, my face and mood were bright and clear. This was because I had a reunion scheduled for that evening with my "friends" for the first time in 10 years.

After finishing my tourist duties, I checked into my hotel, got ready, and then hopped back on the streetcar to head to my next destination.

The train was packed, and I was slowly being overcome by back pain and a headache, but the moment I arrived at my destination station, they vanished. The power of "friends" is incredible.

Even so, it was a reunion after 10 years. It required as much nervousness and resolve as meeting a first love.

First, I met up with the first group of "friends" I hadn't seen in 10 years at a family restaurant.

Huh. It didn't feel like 10 years at all. If anything, I felt like we had just hung out yesterday. The power of "friends" is incredible.

We continued to meet up with others one by one, but not a single person felt like it had been a long time. Even though 10 years had passed since we last met.

The purpose of my return to Hiroshima was to reunite with my fun-loving friends from high school. I'm sure everyone is living as respectable adults in their daily lives, but when we get together, the vibe from "those days" comes back to life.

Because it's important, I'll say it again: they are supposed to be respectable adults in their daily lives. (Probably, anyway.)

First, when one person mistook this for a lunch box, we burst into laughter, saying, "Nothing has changed!"

Admittedly, it doesn't look unlike a lunch box. But I didn't bring a lunch box from Tokyo, and I don't pack rice to take home.

They apparently thought this mysterious object was my lunch box.

I'm sure they're reading this note, so I want them to reflect on that properly.

We moved to an izakaya, and even after everyone had gathered, it was a storm of "nothing has changed." I laughed so hard that my abs and laugh lines were completely wrecked.

I would love to tell you what was so funny, but I'll refrain due to adult circumstances. Most of it is stuff that can't be posted on Note, so everyone really needs to reflect on themselves.

Jokes aside, let me say something serious.

Having gone through various things since last year, I was honestly relieved to find that I could still laugh this much.

Due to some complicated circumstances, I lost my hometown to return to. But knowing that I could come back here, that I had a place to return to, was incredibly reassuring.

I don't know the exact definition of the word, but for some reason, the term "comrades" feels more fitting than "friends."

The rowdy fun, the vulgar topics, the silly jokes, the worries about old age, and the karaoke place we went into where we only sang one song because there were no other shops around.

Everything is happiness, and it's all a treasure.

On the Shinkansen back to Tokyo, fueled by the energy to keep going. I felt so lonely right after it departed that I almost cried. (Actually, I did cry a little.)

Even while joking around, everyone worried about me and encouraged me so much. And more than anything, I am happy that they treated me exactly the same as always, even while knowing about my various circumstances.

I will definitely come back again.

I vowed that next time, I would return with my head held high and a smug look on my face. First, I'll open a job search site. I'll move forward little by little, without pushing myself too hard.

Steady progress, starting with small things.

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▼ This is the kind of woman who wrote this note ▼