Released: 2016/6/27
※This essay was also published in the book compilation of Saito Soma no Kenkou de Bunkateki na Saitei Gendo no Seikatsu.
It was raining, so I chose to stay inside. I was going to go out for a drink, but sadly, I don’t like going out on rainy days. I reluctantly decided to organize the piles of scripts, outfits, books, garbage, and other miscellaneous items that had accumulated.
As I was sorting things, I found an unfamiliar box in the back of my closet. Inside was a pair of dark indigo rainboots. Huh? Did I buy these? I pondered for a while, unable to remember where they had come from, when suddenly it dawned on me: my uncle had given them to me a very long time ago. At the time, my feet had still been small, and I couldn’t really find an opportunity to wear them. They must have followed me to my current home somehow.
Speaking of which, my uncle gave me quite a few of my current possessions, whether they be books, clothes, or a guitar. I glanced at the guitar which was propped up on a stand, its strings long since rusted over. It remained silent. The room was filled with only the sound of the rain falling outside.
There aren’t many things that I continue to use indefinitely. Most things only stay in use for two or three years at most. However, there is one thing that has lasted for several years: the electric guitar my uncle gave me. It should’ve been around the time I began high school, so I’ve been playing it for about ten years now. That said, I only seriously practiced until I was around twenty. After that, I only took it out occasionally to perform maintenance and pluck the strings with my old muscle memory.
I don’t quite remember why my uncle gave me this guitar, but I think it was probably to congratulate me on graduating middle school. Thinking about it, my uncle has done a lot for me ever since I was little. He’s my father’s younger brother, exactly twenty years older than me, and works hard in Tokyo. I admired him when I was a kid. A fancy job and lifestyle in a fancy city… As a depressed boy living in the countryside, I saw my uncle as a guy who appeared every now and then to show me things that were shiny, cool, and stylish. In a way, he was my hero.
My uncle had once been a bandman, and he said that the guitar he gave me was the one he used to use. He also gave me several books by Kurt Vonnegut, showed me the record collection in his room, and took me out to eat a lot.
When I had just turned twenty, he brought me to a store that had delicious wine. Too young to know how to handle alcohol, I simply gobbled up all of the food and drink that was served and got very drunk. My uncle gently chided me and taught me how to drink in moderation. Perhaps he was partial to me because I was his first nephew. He often took me to concerts, and I was awed by the amazing performances that I normally wouldn’t have been able to see.
On one such day, as soon as we met up at the concert hall, he said, “Something came up and I have to leave, sorry.” He looked nervous and left without saying anything else. Since I was young and inexperienced and didn’t know what to do with the extra ticket, I watched the concert by myself. At the time, I had a vague feeling that I wouldn’t be able to see him as much anymore, and it turned out to be true.
After all, I never imagined I’d get a cousin twenty years younger than me. My uncle and his wife had their first child, and when things had mostly calmed down, we met for the first time in a while. He was as stylish and easygoing as always, but there was a different light in his eyes as he gazed at his child. For the first time ever, I felt for some reason that my father and uncle were similar. Oh, I see. These might be the eyes of a father. I secretly smiled to myself.
As is the case with most small children, his child seemed to love shiny and unusual things, looking curiously at things like smartphones, keys, and adults’ eyes. I might not be able to become your hero, but I’ll do my best to bring you shiny things like my uncle used to. I hope we’ll get along. That’s what I thought.
The sound of a phone notification brought me back to my senses. I looked at the screen and was surprised to see the word “Uncle.” Is such perfect timing even possible?
I couldn’t sit still anymore after that coincidence. I hurriedly changed my clothes and put on the rainboots. They used to be too big for me, but now they fit snugly around my feet. I think I’ll stop by a place before meeting with my uncle. My destination is, of course, a guitar shop. I’ll begin my walk in the rain by replacing these rusty strings.
