Mother's room
The mornings are always quiet, and eventually, when it is time for the children to go to school at the elementary school nearby, I can hear their voices at the same tempo as the chirp-chirp of the little birds. Today, however, it sounds not like small birds, but much larger ones that were making crazy noises.
The gray birds with a pointed beak are smaller than crows; but I could not identify the name of the birds. It seems that my mother is feeding them.
I should get up.
I went into my mother's room on the first floor to dry the laundry and opened the window facing the garden. This is the only place with a drying pole. Outside the window, I could see a clear blue sky from behind the trees in the garden. Yes, I must get the stepladder and pick the fruits from the top of the Yuzu tree. Let's do it now before I forget.
I took the stepladder and went back into my mother's room. She was watching her daughter pacing back and forth in her room. I grabbed the appropriate scissors for picking the Yuzu fruits and set the stepladder down in front of the Yuzu tree. With a snap, I released the fruit from the branch and put it in my pocket. Just as my pockets were about to fill with fruits, my mother, who had been watching me closely, came out of her room carrying an orange plastic bag. “Thank you,” I said, pulling the Yuzu out of my pocket and handing them to her one by one. The fruits glowed beautifully against the blue sky and green leaves, and the orange bag was filled with yellow Yuzu.
Today is the day I leave for the U.S. My mother got up slowly to see me off and came out of her room. I put on my coat, put on my backpack, and reached into my coat pocket for my gloves. Instead, I took out a mess of tissues, and I couldn't tell if they were used or un-used and tried to put them back in my pocket again. My mother walked back to her room, grabbed two brand new pocket tissues, and handed them to me. She then held out her palm to take my used or un-used tissues. She meant to collect the trash.
She has always been a mother and her role is to take care of her daughter.
“I'm off.” I said with a full smile, but my mother did not smile. My mother said, “I assume there's nothing more I can do for you. Safe travels.”
I said, “I'll be fine, thank you, Mom. I'll see you later.” I smiled back with many more smiles. She said, “Okay. See you in May.” But she remained listless.
I know why she is not happy. There may be some sadness because I am leaving her, but it’s not that. It is because my mother's freedom, confidence, and purpose in life, which used to be her daily routine, are shrinking away one by one, becoming like a withered tree, and eventually they will drive my mother away like a decaying forest.
My mother forgets many things.
If one of my mother’s memories is lost, it is lost like a sand castle in a wave. Yet, my mother still has the ability to improve, to try to restore her memories. For her, it must be physically draining to try to regain her memories. So, gradually she started stop chasing and gives up on them.
She loses confidence because she can no longer do what she used to be able to do. To regain confidence, she tries everything. She challenges to prove her ability. We worry. We try to stop her. However, she interpreted it to mean that she was not capable. That upsets her.
Mother says,“I’m still okay. I can still do things on my own.”
Not only her physical or mental abilities, but the rapid changes of modern life, especially digitalization, are not easy for the elderly. We, as a family say,“Don't worry. We'll help you.” Mother says,“I don't need help. I can do it myself.”
Riding the train to the airport, I read a book.
With each turn of the book's page, a scene unfolds. At the same time, the people on the train get on and off to their own places. And at this moment, somehow we share the time and space with each other. I live my life among such others, enduring my own questions and doubts.
My scarf of the month will be Yuzu in the plastic bag.
Hope you enjoy my newsletter.
Thank you,
-Yuh Okano
