A Saudade -My bitter memories and regrets on childhood-

I’m proud of you, Hinata.

After the long special exhibition at the prefectual science museum ended, Hinata returned home. My daughter seemed to be asleep in her uniform, tired from a bit of exercise. As usual, I gently touched the acrylic case covering her.

During the exhibition, the curator's report mentioned that many visitors had spoken to Hinata every day, and that women of all ages had shed tears in front of her. Among them was a woman who had come all the way from Tokyo.

A letter arrived when as the exhibition ended. The sender was written as "Nakano Akari." I wondered for a moment if I had heard her name somewhere before, and then I remembered. It was the girl who used to live nearby. Could this be the woman mentioned in the report? I opened the envelope with some nervousness. When I looked inside, I was greeted by a message filled with neat handwriting.

"I stopped by the Science Museum on my way home from a trip home. There, I suddenly bumped into Hina-chan. At first, I was shocked and stunned, but when I calmed down, tears wouldn't stop. Then, after reading the sign, I realized that this was all I could do, so I told Hina-chan about my memories of the past and what I was doing now. During that time, I couldn't put into words the thoughts that ran through my mind: how I longed for her to wake up, even for just a moment, and respond. I couldn't put into words the emotions that ran through my mind."

When I read this, tears wouldn't stop. I never imagined that my actions and determination had reached someone's heart.

I still vividly remember that day. After holding my beloved Yuuji tightly and laying him in the box, and burying him after much anguish, I put Hinata in my car and drove desperately down a rough road filled with rubble, mud, and collapsed shoulders, constantly worrying about the gas level. There was no water or food available here. With nowhere to rest, all I wanted was to be with Hinata forever, to never let her go. And so I found a small house in the prefectural capital. Soon after arriving, I left my daughter a memorial hall for a few days for "treatment", but since then, we've been together ever since. To me, then and now, I believe Hinata is simply sleeping.

Every time I go out into the city or to the shopping center and see couples happily raising their child, my heart lurches. Hinata will never leave that acrylic case again. She will forever remain my own "sheltered daughter." Each time I realize this, complicated emotions run through my mind.

Then one day, the phone rang. It was the curator at the Science Museum. They were planning an exhibition of items lost in the earthquake, and had been running around, when they heard about my daughter's situation. When I heard that, my heart wavered. Until then, I had never even considered putting Hinata, who was so precious to me—my life's purpose—out in public.

For a while after that, I was filled with much worry. But the curator continued to speak to me patiently, yet patiently. "Our mission is to protect the dignity of our loved ones and pass on their existence to future generations. And above all, I believe her existence has the power to convey an immeasurable message to those sharing the same grief, as well as to younger generations who have no knowledge of the disaster."

Her words further touched my heart. My beloved Hinata. It was a grief I shared alone. Would Hinata really be happy if I kept her locked up in the house like this? Perhaps she was feeling lonely.

One night, I sat beside her as she slept and gently touched her cheek through the acrylic lid. It was cold. It was a natural feeling, but that coldness seemed to melt my stubborn heart.

"Hinata, I'm sorry I've made you feel so lonely for so long. You've been cooped up inside the house and haven't seen anyone. From now on, you'll be able to meet lots of people. Many people will get to know you."

I spoke to my daughter with tears in my eyes. And so, I decided to take her with me. It was partly out of fear that my own grief might change, but more than anything, it was the greatest parental love I could feel for Hinata at that moment.

I wrote the following caption with great emotion.

"There were days when I vaguely thought that one day my daughter would have children and become a grandmother. But that has now become a delusion. My daughter can never leave this glass case again. Please help her make more memories."

After reading the letter, I faced Hinata's case once again. That child had met so many people during the exhibition. Complete strangers spoke to her, shed tears, and felt her presence. It was something I could not have done for her on my own, even if I wanted to. The exhibition has ended, but I'm sure the memories of meeting her, feeling her, and speaking to her will continue to live on in the hearts of those who spoke to her.

Hinata rests peacefully in her case, as she continues to do today. But to me, her sleeping face looked calmer than before, and a little more contented. Just as my letter had touched the heart of one woman named Akari, Hinata's existence had also left an impression on the hearts of many people.

I gently touched Hinata's case again. It no longer felt cool like before, but rather had a warmth to it.