The promise by Aki Ishihara
The Sunflower Nursery home regularly smells of antiseptic and lavender room freshener. Personally, Charles was not a big fan of lavender. He disliked it so much that he regularly requested it be changed to Chinese elderberries, which he put inside his own room. He made his way back to his room, where he sunk into an armchair with a cup of tea, and his eyelids finally became heavy.
It was pitch black.
“Where am I?” His voice echoed in the foreign space. But then the pitch black turned into a familiar scenery. Before him was a tranquil suburban neighborhood, the bright sunrays of early afternoon covering the grassy lawns like a warm blanket.
Right in front of him was the house he once called home. He peered inside the windows, where his wife was cooking dinner, and his kid was playing with toys on the floor. The sight tugged at his heart, and Charles became rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the sizzle of homecooked food and his child’s laughter.
He thought back to Jenny. Guilt gnawed at his insides for losing touch and ignoring the growing gap between them that was never bridged. He was so busy with his work that he had neglected the only things that could have grounded him.
The scent of lavender he so disliked, even the Chinese elderberry he loved, couldn’t compare to the warmth pouring out of that house — the smell of comfort, of belonging. With a pang of regret, he realized yet again the things he missed out on. The mundane moments- family dinners, rounds of uno, reading books at bedtime. Now, they seemed like life’s most precious treasure.
As he reflected on his past, a voice cut through his memories.
“Excuse me, Mr. Charles. Would you like me to help you back to your room?” a nurse asked. He was back at the nursing home.
“Yes, please,” Charles replied. As he walked back to his room, the vibrant scenes of the dream he had still surged through his head.
When Charles got to his room, he sat on the couch. A mix of feelings swirled within him. He reached into his pocket and found an old, worn photograph.
In the photo, Charles sits with his wife, his arm around her shoulders, smiling at the camera. Next to them, their daughter plays happily, her laugh frozen in time. Seeing her daughter’s face, Charles knew he shouldn’t spend any more time regretting or sulking because none of that would bring her back. With a heavy heart, he slowly pulled the photograph back into his pocket.
As he lay down to rest, he made a promise to himself. He’d no longer dwell on regrets; he would cherish the rest of his life and the memories he would make. In the stillness of his room, he felt a sense of peace, knowing that despite his regrets or any mistakes he might have made in the past, he had not lost the ability to cherish and love.
