Mr.Children's HANABI in 2023

Last autumn, I received a call from my child who lives far away.
“...Um... I need some help... could you come here?”
they said, sounding hesitant.

“I’ll go. I’ll take the first train tomorrow.”
It was already past 11:00 PM, but I answered immediately.
I couldn't just sleep. That was my immediate thought.

My child has struggled with various difficulties due to ASD and ADHD traits, and has been hurt many times in the past by relationships at school and in extracurricular activities.

Perhaps they had also protected themselves by blaming all of that on their parents and hating us.
Once, my child openly directed hatred toward me and condemned me as a “toxic parent!”

However, those days of fearing verbal abuse and violence are long gone.
Since my child left home for university, our parent-child relationship has gradually changed.

When I saw my child after a long time, they were having a panic attack and were terribly frightened.

Exhausted by daily life and harboring vague anxieties about the future, they were still trying to face it all alone.

As I listened to them little by little, we ate, talked some more, and watched a quiz show, and before I knew it, my child had fallen asleep.

It was the same sleeping face I knew so well from when they were little.

When I was asking about how they were doing over the phone at the end of the year,
“I’ll help you pick out a new computer when I come home for the New Year holidays,”
my child said.

It seems they remembered me complaining about my old computer malfunctioning when I stayed with them in the autumn.

I suddenly remembered my late father.

One day, my father, who lived apart from me, asked me to help him choose a word processor.
This was back before computers, let alone word processors, were widely used in every home.

Whenever my father needed advice, he always went to my older or younger sister; he had never chosen me before.
That might have been the only time I went out alone with my father after I became an adult.

I recommended a model I was used to using for work, and we took it back to my parents' house together to finish the initial setup.

“Wow, you really know your stuff...”
Seeing my father squinting with a smile, I felt incredibly proud.
That was the first and last time I felt truly acknowledged by my father.

With several home appliances breaking down in succession, I hadn't actually planned on replacing my computer yet.

However, I realized, “This child surely wants to express their feelings in this way.”
Just as I once did, they want to be useful by using their own area of expertise.

I felt a lump in my throat and was on the verge of tears.
When I said, “...I think I’ll take you up on that,”
my child replied,
“Got it,”
briefly, but looking a little happy.

As promised, my child listened to my preferences one by one to find a model, and reserved the product online at the end of the year.

Then, after the New Year began, we went out together to the crowded downtown area for the first sales of the year.

My child is in a good mood from the morning, humming a tune every now and then. It is the theme song of a medical drama that was popular about 15 years ago, a song I still hear often even after all this time.

“Wait? Didn't you dislike music?”
When I asked that, my child made a slightly troubled face and said,
“...Well, that was just to be considerate of my older sister...”
they hesitated.

My older child spent their student days immersed in music, from piano to band activities, but my younger child was supposed to be bad at both singing and instruments.

“Because it would have been bad if I were good at music too. I had no choice but to go with the 'can't do music' persona...”

I couldn't find the words immediately.
My chest tightened, and I felt tears welling up again.

My older child also has developmental disabilities, and because they had many things they struggled with or couldn't do, they only had painful experiences.
Even so, thanks to the piano they started at age five, music was the only thing they were good at.

When the children were young, I sang many songs to them until they fell asleep, or while carrying them on the front and back of my bicycle.
Every time they begged for 'one more time, one more time,' I would repeat the nursery rhymes I knew by heart.

How did one of those children come to believe that they were bad at music and incapable of singing or playing instruments?

In my excessive concern for my older child, who had more pronounced traits, did I force this child to be considerate through silent pressure?

When problems arise between parent and child, the parent is without exception the one at fault.

No matter the circumstances, the child is a victim of inappropriate parenting and abuse, and I, the parent, am the perpetrator who caused the harm.

“Mr. Children is great, isn't it? I listen to them a lot too.”
When I said that, my child nodded deeply and then told me about their favorite groups and songs they have been listening to lately.

They were mostly artists I didn't know, but just seeing them explain it so happily filled my heart.
I thought to myself, I am so glad that this child doesn't hate music.

When I brought home a new computer, my child finished the initial setup in no time and customized it to make it easier for me to use.

To me, who kept repeating 'thank you,' my child showed a shy smile.

On New Year's Day night, after finishing all the osechi and ozoni I had prepared, the two children enjoyed playing nostalgic games until late at night.

Lots of laughter echoed in the living room.
The siblings are very close.

Watching their smiles, I start to feel like it might not be too late.
Even though these children once turned their backs on me, I wonder if I might be allowed to reach out my hand one more time.

Before long, the children gave a light wave and each returned to their own place.