The black leather cover had cracked, and on the yellowing pages, blue ballpoint pen had written large words.
From back to front, Natsume Shiro wrote down his memories, documenting his life.
At 74, I couldn’t remember things, they said I was becoming dull.
I’ve grown old. I want to jot down some things.
Shiro doesn’t cry. Mom told me not to cry.
At 69, Hanako suddenly left. I owe her, why didn’t I make it up to her, why didn’t I take her to see Mount Fuji.
At 68, Hanako fell ill, she said she wanted to see Mount Fuji. I said I would take her when she got better, but she never did.
At 66, Yuna got into university, I wanted to send her off to school. But the train ticket was too expensive, so I didn’t go. She’s a good kid.
At 55, I fell off my bike. The metal pin surgery was too expensive, so I didn’t have the operation, and I could never ride a bike again.
At 49, a highway was built next to the town. Cars were much faster than my bike, turns out bicycles aren’t allowed on highways.
At 43, my third child died. Only 11 years old.
At 40, I bought a bicycle, and now I rode it to work every day, very convenient.
At 32, the brickyard went bankrupt. My family urgently needed money, I tried every way to earn. Later I went to work as an apprentice in an izakaya, earning 900 yen a month.
At 27, I married Hanako. I became a father. She was born in ’39, I said we’d visit Mount Fuji once we had the money.
At 25, the brickyard work was tough. Uki’s family found her a path to become a formal employee in the city. She asked me to go together.
I couldn’t leave. I had no money, knew no one.
I wrote her a letter, she said she was getting married, and then we lost touch.
At 23, I met (illegible) Uki. She was two years younger than me, very pretty. She taught me how to write.
At 22, I started working at the factory. I learned diligently, being a contract worker, conditions at the brickyard were tough, but as long as I got paid, it was fine. When I had enough money, I could leave this place.
At 20, I worked on a fishing boat with my second uncle. The sea stretched endlessly, I wanted to see what was across it when I got the money.
At 19, mom passed away. She never enjoyed much in life. I haven’t contacted my siblings since.
At 15, I made plans with friends to climb a mountain, whoever could reach the top would succeed in life and make big money. But the next day, I didn’t go.
I had to harvest the wheat, couldn’t leave.
I harvested rice for many days. Always felt there was plenty of time, the mountain was always there, I’d climb it when I had the chance.
Never in my whole life.
Though I didn’t climb the mountain, why does it feel like I climbed it my whole life.
If I had climbed that mountain back then, would I not have so many regrets.
I want to climb the mountain.
I want to climb the mountain.
I want to climb the mountain.
The rice has all been harvested.
The bicycle is scrap.
The kids have all grown up.
Everything that needed to be done is done.
I’m as old as a camel now.
I want to climb the mountain. I want to climb the mountain.
I want to climb the mountain. I want to climb the mountain.
I want to climb the mountain. I want to climb the mountain.
I climbed that mountain.