honey color

For an infallible man.

After graduation four years later, I still haven't waited to come to Yukimura.According to Chitose, Yukimura's study in Paris was difficult but rewarding.He studied with a very prestigious teacher, even won some very influential painting competitions, maybe he will stay in France forever.

That's fine, he achieved a higher achievement without me, and those youths and madness will be less and less washed away by time, and may gradually disappear, or even be forgotten, and even the unforgettable feelings at that moment will be forgotten. It became more and more shallow, and finally became a trivial matter that was passed away with a smile.

So when the apartment was still vacant with his paintings, I didn’t go there again after that, the maintenance and cooking of the paintings were entrusted to Budu, and he always seemed to be envious of something.I remember that he once told me that it might be good if he had majored in photography at that time.When he said this in a daze, I just pursed my lips and smiled:

"What are you envious of?"

"..." I saw through his thoughts, and when he suddenly pointed his eyes at me, he finally looked at me and chuckled.

That kind of envy is superfluous. The most important thing is that we both abide by the agreement in the end and agree not to show each other our backs.But on the other hand, I left Yukimura with my back.In this competition, Bu Er is obviously the one who wins.

So since then, he never said anything like that.

After graduation, both he and I chose to move on.Bu Er is a top student in Waseda's History Department. Reading has always been an easy task for him. While continuing his studies, his tutor also intends to let him stay in the school as a lecturer.He readily accepted that perhaps for him, it would be best for him to spend half of his life working hard and half enjoying himself, and a career like a university lecturer would be perfect.And I was also encouraged by Mr. Fujiki to stay in school for further studies, and I was even "threatened" by him that I would not even think about escaping from Musashino for the rest of my life.Mr. Fujiki probably meant that he wanted me to stay, to be able to create various works while gaining a foothold in university, and to conquer the world with his own paintings.

Although the future is still uncertain, Fuji and I are living comfortably.

Yuta stepped into the marriage hall earlier than us.His wife was his college classmate, and they dated for four years from freshman to senior year, and they got married immediately in the year of graduation.After moving out of his hometown, Yuta rented a house closer to work and started living. While Fuji and I were busy with our studies and work, their first child was born in the spring of the second year after marriage up.

You will feel that this is a miracle. The young boy who was standing on the tennis court and quarreling with his brother is still in front of him, but now he seems to be a father.When I was lamenting his rapid changes, I was sent into my arms by Fuji.To be honest, I am a little envious. I have been doing rehabilitation training hard these years, but with little success.I don't know if I can be a good wife when I marry the man in front of me, or even bear him a child.But he just laughed and said he didn't care at all:

"The most important thing is you."

He comforted me over and over again, which finally made me decide to move out of Aunt Matsumoto's house two years later and choose to live with him.

Although he is still studying hard, he has officially obtained the qualification of Waseda lecturer.He had a stable income, and I was getting better at painting. We soon found a house with a view of the sea. The feeling of watching the sun rise from the sea and set into the sea every day is really great. , I quickly fell in love with this apartment.

It was the second week after Fuji and I submitted our marriage application when we officially moved out from Aunt Matsumoto's house.

Sunny day, the sun is quite good.

Aunt Matsumoto, whose face had already been wrinkled, was relieved to see the luggage being removed from the place where she had lived for so long one by one, but at the same time felt lonely.

Just like her daughter getting married, we stood in front of the cherry blossom trees that had grown much taller in the yard, and the summer was half blocked by the leaves on the branches. She told me something about the past and the present, and everyone was busy. There are only the two of us in the shade of the tree, and the appearance of my father leading me here more than ten years ago seems to be in front of my eyes.She shed tears while talking, and I didn't hold back.

Perhaps all fantasies about my mother come from her. She is strong and gentle, and her influence on me is engraved in the depths of my childhood.Thinking of this, I raised my head and said to her seriously:

"Thank you for being like my mother for so many years..."

But she seemed to think of something because of this sentence.

"The box..." She said these two words in a low voice, "There is a box under the cherry blossom tree!" She almost called out this sentence, which also reminded me of something vaguely.

That’s when my father just sent me to Matsumoto’s house. He buried something under the cherry tree. I still remember standing in front of the door and looking up at my father with a smile. In my memory, he seemed to be right. what did i say.

"He said..." Aunt Matsumoto said, "When you find someone you can rely on for the rest of your life, dig this thing out."

"..." I looked at her in surprise, he was probably the only one who would use such a "romantic" way.That was the father's style. He would bury a box of important things in the soil, and feel confident that when his daughter dug it out more than ten years later, it would still look the same.

When the shovel swung by Brother Hong and Fuji hit something and made a crisp sound, the true face of the box finally appeared in front of us.

It was a porcelain box, not the wooden or iron box I imagined. The original white porcelain surface was no longer so smooth and white because it had been buried in the ground for a long time.There was a lock on it, but the key had long since disappeared, or he had left no key at all.So we cracked the lock, and when the lid was flipped up, a few yellowed black and white photos lay there.

"It seems that it is something that Nobuo left for you." Aunt Matsumoto said, but I accidentally found a brown envelope from under the few photos. On the envelope was written the words "To Mi Hanada" .I was a little puzzled, and when I tore open the envelope, I realized that a photo had fallen out of it.

Fuji picked it up for me, and the words "photographed in October 1985" were written on the back of the photo. Suddenly, I felt a little strange. 10 and October were the time when I was born.

So when I slowly turned the photo over, the three people printed on it finally came into view.A man approaches a woman lying on a bed with a newborn child in his arms.

And that man was obviously...his father when he was young.

Everyone was extremely surprised. For many years, my father didn't say a word about the mother who gave birth to me, as if I had never had a mother in the first place.But now, that woman was lying on the bed with a happy smile, and she was looking at the camera in front of her with her ruddy face pursed.

I couldn't speak, and I didn't bother to look at the other things in the porcelain box one by one. Everyone saw my shock. They sorted out the important things for me, and they didn't rush me to reveal everything immediately. The truth of the puzzle.Uncle Matsumoto secretly took a picture of Fuji and told him to take me back to rest quickly.

In fact, the emergence of this incident almost uprooted my long-held thoughts. "Mother" is something I have always been looking forward to but out of reach. Now, things about that woman appear easily with a box that has been buried for more than ten years, and the shock in my heart can be imagined.

Not long after, I read my father’s diary in a porcelain case, detailing his three years in India, and detailing my mother, a Japanese orphan who had gone to India to volunteer.

Her name is Riko Ogawa, and she is a very gentle woman. There is no other photo about her except this family portrait.My father would go to India in the 80s of last century, and he was originally moved by the religion and strong national color there.While traveling to a village on the outskirts of the Indian city of Amritsar, he discovered a vast field of sunflowers.He remembered that he had read a report about this flower field in a geographical magazine.It is one of the famous flower fields in the world, and in such a devout country, sunflowers are also painted with a sacred atmosphere.In this sunflower field, he met my mother.At that time, there were not many Japanese who would go to India. When they met a fellow countryman in a different place, they quickly became acquainted.

Soon after, they lived in a house overlooking the field of flowers.At that time, my father had a great idea. He planned to create a group of long-exposure photographs. He set up two cameras in the house next to the sunflower field. Still recording the golden ocean.

It turned out that the photo Ueda-sensei once showed me was the life recorded by my father in the happiest golden time.My mother would come to this flower field every day, sometimes just to see the condition of the cameras, and sometimes to take a walk with my father after dinner.They conceived a love in this flower field on the outskirts of India, and I am the beautiful return of this love.It's just that the period of staying together was only three years. After that, a huge epidemic broke out in the local area.The mother, who was a volunteer, always stayed among the patients. When she was diagnosing diseases for the locals, she was unfortunately infected, and eventually died in the hut that she and her father built by the sea of ​​flowers.

They like my mother so want to take her