#17 "It's okay to dislike what you dislike," during my daughter's swimming time.

2026.6.24

My daughter, who has become a sixth grader,
still dislikes swimming.

When she prepares for school,
there is a clear shadow of hesitation
in her hands as she picks up
her light blue pool bag.

Usually, whether it's a difficult math problem or
the recorder she just started playing,
she is the type to get eager,
knitting her brows slightly and saying,
"I want to be able to do it."

Yet, only toward swimming,
she holds a surprisingly clear sense of resignation.

For my daughter, the place called the pool must surely
be far too orderly.

White lane ropes,
marker lines at equal intervals,
and the clear number of
"how many meters she could swim."

Fitting her own body into
such square rules
just didn't seem to suit her.
Every time the smell of chlorine hit her nose,

her heart must have been
escaping out the classroom window.

"You don't have to force yourself to learn to swim to survive. As long as you don't drown, it's fine!!"

After dinner,
when I said that while drinking barley tea,
my daughter looked a bit surprised,
and then smiled happily.

Because she is a hard worker,
I think she sometimes needs an escape route
that says, "You don't have to try so hard."

In this world,
there are things you just can't bring yourself to like,
and it's okay to have the freedom to keep that as a "dislike"
tucked away in your pocket.

There is no need to overcome everything
and become someone impressive.

Strangely enough, my daughter loves the ocean.

When summer comes,
we often go to a quiet beach.
When my daughter changes into her swimsuit,
she runs to the water's edge without hesitation.
She dips her feet into the sparkling waves,
and just quietly enjoys
the sensation of the water coming in and out.

What is in the ocean
is not a boundary line like in a pool.
It is an infinitely vague, whimsical, and irregular blue.
Watching her pick up seashells
or laugh out loud at the feeling of the sand
being washed away by the waves,
I can clearly see that she doesn't dislike water itself.
What she loves

is that unpredictable,
free expanse of water.

Even if she can't breathe properly
in a square pool,
it doesn't matter at all.

Facing that vast ocean,
if she can breathe in the pleasant breeze to her heart's content,
and look with sparkling eyes
saying, "It's beautiful," isn't that enough?

Tomorrow morning, she will surely
hold her pool bag with a slightly gloomy face again.
I just need to send her off
with a voice a little softer than usual,
saying, "Have a good day."
I want to gently protect her "dislikes"

just as they are.
That is all I think.

Thank you so much
for reading until the end today.

We all have one or two things we aren't good at, right?
It's fine. Let's take it easy.

Well then, see you again.