The story of a mother and son whose roles were reversed over the passage of time.

#nana56b


Lines from the story

Today, unusually, I made plans to take my mother
out to eat. The place is a ramen shop we've been
going to for years, filled with our memories.

When I was little, my mother always brought me
here. Today, it's my turn to invite her. To enjoy
miso ramen together, especially that flavor she
loved so much.



“This place has always been delicious, hasn't
it?” my mother said, smiling with wrinkles
creasing her face, which was quite unlike her.

When the ramen arrived, we began eating with
gusto. Her smile reminded me of those days when
we laughed together innocently.


But seeing the wrinkles etched into her smiling
face made the sadness of time passing well up
inside me, tightening my chest.


After a while, I glanced at her bowl. Amidst
the soup with chashu floating on top, plenty of
noodles remained. My mother looked up at me
apologetically and said, her voice trembling,


“I'm sorry. Maybe I'm just getting old. I want
to eat, but it just won't go down. I'm sorry I
couldn't finish, even though you went to all
this trouble to invite me...”


Her voice trembled. Those words echoed exactly
what I had said to her when I was a child, and
the memory flashed back vividly.



After saying, “It's okay,” I intended to
smile. But tears welled up in the corners of
my eyes, threatening to spill. When I was a
child, I'd stubbornly order extra-large
portions, end up unable to finish them, and
my mother would gently eat what I left behind.



Now, with the passage of time, the roles had
reversed. It was my turn to take on that duty.
And I slurped up the ramen my mother had left
behind, fighting back tears.



The wrinkles etched by the years on my
mother's face were proof of how much trouble
I'd caused her. A mix of heartache and
gratitude overwhelmed me, and after that, I
couldn't find the words. I was filled with
regret that I hadn't done anything for her.



Stepping outside, the cold night wind brushed
my cheeks.
My mother's back, walking ahead of me, looked
so small and frail, as if it might dissolve
into the darkness of the night.



Staring at her back, I murmured softly.

“Mom, I'm the one who should be apologizing.”

“I'm sorry. Thank you for raising someone
like me all these years.”