The time I, usually indecisive, turned someone away at the front door

“What should I have for lunch?”
Just as I was mentally listing the leftovers in the fridge, the doorbell rang.
Looking at the clock, there were about 30 minutes left until noon.


I held my breath for a moment.
The thought of just pretending I wasn't home crossed my mind.
However, my meticulous eldest daughter answered via the intercom upstairs.

“My name is Sato (pseudonym), we went to the same high school. Is Ms. △△ home?”

Ah, that’s me.

Resigned, I started down the stairs, realizing halfway that I wasn't wearing a mask, but I told myself it would be over quickly. I slowly opened the front door.
I slowly opened the front door.

The air outside was a bit damp and chilly.
She was holding a piece of paper about the size of a B6.
When she saw I wasn't wearing a mask, she lowered her own mask to her chin.
She didn't seem like a bad person at all.

When I asked, she said she was two or three years older than me.
Since there were over 300 students in each grade, I wouldn't remember anyone unless they were very prominent.
If she were three years older, we wouldn't have had any connection at all.
She said we went to the same girls' school, so I returned a smile for the time being, but...
“Sato (pseudonym)” is not an uncommon surname.
In the back of my mind, I vaguely thought, “I’ve heard of this way of visiting somewhere before.”

She was a bit plump, and she began to talk about how you can find happiness by holding memorial services for your deceased parents.
As she spoke, she held the piece of paper toward me.
I took it and glanced at it.

It was covered in kanji, and at a glance, I couldn't tell what was written.
Was it a sutra, or an explanation?
It might even have been a spell.

I declined her offer early on.

That was because just this morning, I had placed my own meal on a tray by the family altar, changed the water, and rung the bell three times.

I spoke in my heart while looking at the lined-up memorial tablets.
And I ate every bit of the meal I had taken down.
That is my way of “memorializing.”
I believe what is important is not something expensive, but not forgetting.

She also said, “You can find happiness if you hold a memorial service.”
Perhaps those words are aimed at people who feel they are “not happy right now.”
Unfortunately, I am happy right now.
I have many wishes, like wanting to do this or wanting that to happen.
There are many things I haven't achieved.
Even so, if asked, “Are you happy?”
I am happy right now.

I am already holding memorial services, and I am happy, so there is no need to listen to her story.
So, I told her, “I don't need it.”
However, she didn't back down immediately.
I am usually indecisive, but regarding this, I would not budge.

I steeled my heart, returned a full smile, and firmly declined.

A slightly awkward silence flowed at the front door.
I stood there, bracing myself.

Eventually, she gave a small bow and returned to her car.

Watching her return to her car, I immediately closed the front door and locked it as I always do.
If it had been an important guest, I would have seen them off until their car was out of sight.
But this time, I didn't.

Perhaps that is her job.
I feel bad for her, but it is something I don't need right now.

What I wanted to protect at the front door that time might have been the quiet of my own life.

When I returned to the kitchen, the rice cooker's keep-warm light was glowing red.
Now then, what should I have for lunch?
Thinking about that, I think I am happy again today.

The story of how I, usually indecisive, said no at the front door

2592nd consecutive day of posting on note
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*I borrowed an image from Miwa Yutani.