高齢者施設にいる両親に会いに行った。
いつもは一人で行くけれど、叔母や従姉妹らが同行してくれた。
一昨年の夏に入所した時にはすでにコロナ禍で、これまで一度も直接会えたことはない。
片道２時間かけて、たった10分、冷たい風を受けながら、ガラス越しに向き合う。
携帯電話で繋がるも、年老いた両親とはなかなか会話が成立しない。
威厳のあった親が少しずつ老衰していく様子を、哀しみいっぱいで受け止める。
最初に泣き出したのは、甥っ子（従姉の長男）だった。
毎年お正月に集まっていた頃を、思い出したのだろう。
その優しさに、大人がみんなもらい泣き。
あと何回、こうして会えるのだろうかと、動揺する胸の内を悟られないようにふるまう。
糖尿による認知症が進み、右足を切断したことすら忘れてしまう母。
頭ははっきりしているのに、思うように歩くことができない父。
それでも、今の環境が幸せだという言葉を、大切に心にしまう。
帰り道。
富士山と夕日とサークルのレインボーが一度に見えた奇跡に遭遇した時、
日本にいるこの家族を、つくづく愛していることを再認識した。
本当の居場所。
それは物理的なことでなく、心のあり方なのかもしれない。
I went to see my parents, who were in a senior citizen facility.
I usually go alone, but my aunt and cousins accompanied me.
When they entered the facility the summer before last, it was already under the COVID-19 pandemic, and I have never been able to see them in person.
It was a two-hour drive one way, and we faced each other through the glass for only ten minutes, with the cold wind outside.
Although we were connected by cell phone, it was challenging to talk with my elderly parents.
I take in the sight of my dignified parents slowly deteriorating into old age with full of sorrow.
My nephew (my cousin's eldest son) was the first one to start crying.
He must have remembered when we used to get together every New Year's Day.
The adults were all moved to tears by his kindness.
I wondered how many more times I would see my parents like this and tried not to let them know how upset I was.
My mother's diabetes-induced dementia has progressed to the point where she has forgotten that her right leg was amputated.
My father cannot walk as he wishes, even though his thinking is clear.
Even so, I keep the words in my heart that my father is happy with his current environment.
On the way home.
We saw Mt.Fuji, the sunset, and the rainbow of the circle all at once.
I was reminded of how much I love my family in Japan.
A proper place to be.
It may not be a physical thing, but a mental thing.