In the shade (spring)

How have you been? I'm fine and in good spirits.
I am physically impaired, and today I'd like to explain my views on the disabled.

I believe that the disabled are socially vulnerable but not weak people. That I can consider the situation in this way is due solely to the environment that surrounds me. There are many people who are enduring hardships, and it seems to me that a disabled person is like a racer taking part in an obstacle race. To explain what I mean by such an environment, let me introduce some people who have looked after me without prejudice of the disabled.

When I was five years old, I began going to a hospital regularly with my brother for medical checkups. There was such a warm atmosphere in the pediatrician's office that I almost enjoyed the waiting time. The doctor who first examined me always greeted me with a smile, and when he knew that my brother and I were going to the same school that he used to attend, he couldn't have been more friendly. Seeing such a doctor, I believed that I could grow up as a cheerful, amiable person. It was not long before the doctor who used to sit alongside him began to examine me more often. She became the doctor in charge of me, and continued to be my physician for as long as 28 years. She has not changed as a working woman, and she continues to walk ahead of me as an adult. After 28 years, I must be a grown-up, but she still looks at me with her bright eyes as she has always done, the key to opening the door to the heart of a child who was timid with strangers.

In my later teens, I often wrote postcards to her talking about many things, which might have bothered her. Throughout those 28 years, she gave me explanations of the body appropriate for my age. Looking back, I realize now how important they have been for me. I feel strongly that physical differences are the differences in the life of the disabled.

When I think of her in my mind, I feel I'm pulling myself together. Her image is more effective than a famous bronze statue. Several years have passed since she retired, and I'm still going to the same hospital for check-ups by a new doctor, who seems to respect my previous doctor who examined me for 28 years as if she were a golden statue! I am so pleased to have been able to go to this hospital for such a long time, which has filled me with respect and esteem. I hope to become a better person even if only slightly, though I'm not so confident.

"Same/Different"

Each person is different,
It's amusing that they are not the same.

Giving laughter or a sulky look,
Each is different,
But everyone has a dream,
Wonderful is the world.

Not a single person is identical,
But everyone has love for someone.

All loving hearts connect everyone.

One day… (Part 2)

How are you? I'm fine.

Around this season when the young green leaves smell fresh, some people might feel their heart leaping for joy while others may become impatient. I myself have experienced such a feeling. This is a season with so many diverse aspects that our feelings may depend on our views. I used to go to a school near Inokashira Park surrounded by the Musashino woods. As my brothers were already attending that school when I was born, I took it for granted that I would go to the same school, and indeed, in the spring of 1977 I entered the school. I had a lot of hands-on learning at school, such as making a small knife out of a nail and how to use a saw. In one arithmetic class, everyone in the class had to think about how to derive the value of π. Needless to say, our teacher helped us by giving suggestions and asking questions. When we found the answer, I felt like we had solved the problem that the scholar Archimedes discovered, and I felt close to many scholars like him. In this way, I was fully aware of the pleasure of learning. I felt close not only to those scholars, but also to our teachers who guided us while asking us questions, and who always treated us equally as humans.

I heard that the teacher who was in charge of my class for four years, from third through sixth grade, became schoolmaster of that elementary school. We used to call him Beaver, his nickname, but I will never forget how we ran around and played together as well as studied together. Mr. Beaver attached great importance to a class called "Let's try."

I'm sure that he remembers those days. Though this is a secret, the teacher who was coaching a soccer team at that time, is now striving to do a forward upward flip on the horizontal bar. Recalling the teacher who keeps running lightly, I am entranced by the springtime of Musashino.

"One Season"

A row of cherry trees late at night,
Streetlights are nodding off to sleep,
The wind blows quietly,
Petals of cherry blossoms flutter down like snow.
Flowers lie scattered,
One season says farewell,
And a new season is around the corner.

Playing choo-choo train

How are you doing? I'm fine.

June conjures up thoughts of raindrop-kissed hydrangeas and snails. Why is it the rainy season seems so slow in coming, yet when it arrives it's so oppressive? When I was little, I would watch the raindrops running off my umbrella. Or jump trying to avoid a puddle, only to plop right in. These were games for a rainy day. Even now it delights me to listen to the pitter-patter of the rain outside. It brings back memories of those days playing as a child.

Today I'll write about a few friends. There are all kinds of friends: friends who are ever vivid in your memories; friends whose values one day diverged from yours; friends you've fallen out of contact with, though you seemed to have so much in common; friends you've written to on and off over the years, and still do today.
When my body was whole, it never would have occurred to me, but after I realized I was handicapped, certain friends helped me see that my situation was not so terrible after all.

One has mild cerebral palsy. Today she's a housewife with a flair for cooking. She used to be slender, but now she's put on a bit of weight. "Can't help nibbling, everything taste so good," she explains. This must be what they call growing fat with contentment.
During playtime in her first years at school, she would despite her impairment dart out ahead of the other kids in a race, and clamber high up the nearest tree. She was nimble on the overhead ladder, and would do somersaults while hanging from the horizontal bar. And she could ride a bike no problem. To me she was a paragon. She's now got her driver's license and regularly takes the wheel.

Another friend had infantile asthma. Whenever we got talking it was no holds barred. We usually ended up contradicting each other, so much so I wonder sometimes whether we really did get on that well. But we each felt free to say our piece, so I suppose that means we were true friends. She was often absent from school, yet on the very day she returned to class her hand would shoot up and she would say exactly what she thought. It seemed to me she was somehow inspired.
Later it occurred to me that during her absences she must have studied at home. But the fact is that she is indeed inspired. Today she's a novelist.
One thing she did impresses me still today. Upon returning from an extended absence, she got up in front of the class and did an imitation of singer Kenji Sawada, or "Julie" as he was nicknamed, with a scarf around her neck dangling over her tall frame. She was bursting with energy - the same energy that must fuel her writing today.

I was fortunate from a young age to have friends like these who knew how to live in the bodies they had. Without my even realizing it, they got me thinking about how to best be myself. I am inwardly thankful.

"Meaning"

Before asking the meaning of life
Or what its worth is, walk on.
Just as you walked without being of conscious of it
When you were born into this world,
Walk onward now through the days ahead.
Meaning will follow later in your path.
For now cleave the wind and walk on.