“Bye, Grandma,” I said, my voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness.
“Take care of yourself, dear mother-in-law,” my mother added, her tone affectionate.
“Well then, when will I come next? Let me see… I don’t know yet. I’ll contact you, Mom,” my father chimed in, the uncertainty in his voice hinting at the bittersweetness of our departure.
Silence hung in the air for a moment, and then my gaze met Grandma’s. We stood face to face in the spacious entrance of her house, suitcases in my hand. Our height difference was almost negligible, allowing our eyes to connect directly. I could see the clarity in Grandma’s expression, as if she understood the words I couldn’t bring myself to say.
Grandma broke the silence. “Keiichi, thank you. I had a wonderful time.”
“Grandma… is it alright?” I managed to utter, my voice barely above a whisper. “To go back alone,” I added, hoping she could decipher the unspoken words behind my question.
Grandma’s gentle smile seemed to absorb all my anxiety and confusion. She nodded and reassured me, “It’s alright. Come visit me again.”
Grandma loved Kyoto, which was why she chose to stay here instead of moving to Tokyo with us. I had come to accept my parents’ decision not to insist on Grandma accompanying us. I had learned to cherish Grandma’s own desires. Yet, a sense of loneliness lingered within me.
I scribbled my phone number on a memo pad on the entrance table and handed it to Grandma. “Feel free to contact me anytime,” I said with sincerity.
“Keiichi, thank you,” Grandma replied, her voice warm and appreciative.
“Yeah,” was all I could manage to say, my emotions too complex to put into words.
As we prepared to leave, our family bid farewell to Grandma one by one. Father was the first to say goodbye, followed by my sister, then my mother, and finally, it was my turn. We left the house, Grandma standing at the front, watching us as we made our way toward the town.
“There’s a taxi stand down the slope,” my father mentioned, breaking the silence.
“Should we buy some souvenirs on the way back?” my mother suggested, trying to lighten the mood.
“That’s a good idea,” my sister agreed, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
While my parents discussed their plans, I gazed up at the clear sky, not a single cloud in sight. The air around me felt refreshing, and I took a deep breath, slipping my hands into my pockets as we descended the gentle slope.
Goodbye, Kyoto.
Goodbye, Saki.