Looking at the snow covering everything around here, I was recalling of the day when my mother and the newborn brother came home. He was born at a gyn clinic in the city area several kilometers east of our home. Our home was in a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients in woods far away from the residential area. I have already written about the sanatorium managed by our aunt in the past post here. Our father and mother were working as a housekeeper and a nurse there, respectively. They were not rich enough to own a car those days. It was a cart for farming pulled by my father that my mother and brother were taken back home on.
Our parents used to live in the right house. The left
is a storage house. The tree in front of that house is
a magnolia which may bloom in March.
It was an overcast day. The sky was covered by lead colored cloud. It was a chilly and, in a sense, bleak day. The field was carpetted by snow all over. How could my father know where the road leading to home was? It looked like a lost road in the snow. He was pulling the cart quietly. I was only 4 years of age. Nevertheless, I was walking behind them with a hand on the cart, I believe. I felt proud of walking by myself even though I might ride on the cart on the way later. It was a merry and happy march back toward home for me in my young days.
My parents were in their thirties. It had been several years since the end of WWII when my father was compelled to serve in the army. He has spent hard time as a soldier in China for a few years. He has always regretted about what the japanese army including himself has done against the chinese people during the war. Coming back homeland, he has married with my mother. They have had a small cottage for the honey moon home in the sanatorium. They were working very hard, I know. They must be devoted to living itself as well as to raising their three children. It was the days when they had started raising own family.
I might idealize this memory too much. A very poor family. My parents were losing their work in a year or two from my borther's birth since our aunt was closing the facility. No way to raise kids at that time. Our parents have made an exodus to Tokyo soon. I should have asked them what they would do or what they could do at that time. Strangely, there was no mood of desparation or of helplessness in the family. They were positive and hopeful for the future. One reason was that they both firmly believed in Christianity and it has given them a belief that a road should be ready for us in the future wherever we might be. Our country was starting the rapid growth in economy and social system after the devastating years of WWII. That must has made the people including my parents hopeful for the future. Anyway, despite of the very poor circumstances with me, I have spent happy days under my parents. I could not forget a feeling that I was cared for affectionately.
I could not help remembering of those days with a yearning as well as a sense of bitterness. I feel as if I were asked if I have lived for my family in the same way as my parents used to. Three of us have been working in medical care as doctors and a nurse. It is not thanks to ourselves but to our parents. At my age much older than my parents those days, no use to reflect on myself about how I have lived. All I should do is only to thank my parents for their love to us.