From the title, she probably thought that I was going down the wrong path as an adolescent. I left those two books on my bookshelf, as well as my Vericard, shortwave radio, and all the Patchin and Kamen Rider cards I had collected as a child, and went to university in Tokyo.
I continued to live in Tokyo for the next ten years, but my father had destroyed the house and rebuilt it, so he asked me to come back to my hometown. My father was retiring and said he had used his retirement money to rebuild the house.
Although my life in Tokyo had been fulfilling, I felt that Japan was slowly coming out of recession in the late stages of the bubble economy, and my own work was not going so well.
With my father’s words, I made up my mind to return to my hometown.
I had some expectations that a new life would begin. I decided to throw away the memories of my time in Tokyo.
To tell the truth, I had been pushed to that point.
There was no trace of the house where I had spent my time, but it had been reborn as a large two-story house. My room, of course, was gone. Everything that had been in my room had been destroyed, except for a few paperbacks. I couldn’t find the radio on which I listened to BCL, the two books of “The Muddy World,” or anything else anywhere.
My father and mother had long since passed away, but I couldn’t ask them about it. Where did everything in my room go? Why did they get rid of the things I cherished without asking me?
Perhaps, I thought, my father and mother wanted to renew the memories that remained in that house.
If my father and mother were alive today, I might ask them why they threw them away.
However, it was useless to say anything to my mother and father who only appeared in my dreams.
There are some things that I can buy again now, but to tell the truth, I don’t have the courage to do so.
Maybe it’s because I still feel the need to keep the memories of that time sealed.
No one lives in that house now. My sister sometimes uses it for private piano lessons. I am also estranged from the house these days.
In my dream, my father and mother appear as they were when I was young. I don’t have a chance to ask for the book back anymore.
Maybe that’s okay. Time flies. It might be painful to look back on the memories of that time.
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