“At Home?” I Thought

This morning, my wife went to Tokyo with a friend to see a musical.

In other words, my father-in-law and I would be home alone together.

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My wife had also been working in Tokyo yesterday.

I had the day off, so I went to a nearby day-use hot spring early in the morning.

I worked.

I read a book.

I soaked in the hot spring.

Then I worked a little more.

In the end, I stayed there until after nine in the evening, when my wife finally came home.

I had gone there to relax, but perhaps I had also been unconsciously avoiding spending the day alone at home with my father-in-law.

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I could hardly escape to the hot spring two mornings in a row.

So today, I dealt with the laundry that had been piling up and walked to the nearby supermarket.

I decided to make somen noodles for lunch.

Following a method I had seen online, I placed some chicken thigh in a heat-resistant bag and cooked it gently in hot water to make steamed chicken.

If I served nothing but somen, my AI coach would probably scold me for not getting enough protein.

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There is a large whiteboard in our living room.

My father-in-law’s schedule is written on it.

Today’s entry read:

“9:00 a.m. Youth Baseball Championship Game”

Apparently, it was an event connected with the Lions Club.

“Are you going to the youth baseball event today?”

I asked.

My father-in-law looked at the whiteboard and checked the time again.

Then I asked,

“What are you going to do about lunch?”

He replied,

“I’ll eat at home.”

Inwardly, I thought,

“At home? Seriously?”

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I quickly reminded him that my wife had gone to see a musical with a friend and would not be home for either lunch or dinner.

He showed little interest and simply replied,

“Oh.”

It appeared that I would probably be cooking two meals today.

There are only a few days each year when my father-in-law and I are left alone together.

I cannot keep running away forever.

Perhaps these are precisely the occasions when I need to remain calm and carry on as usual.

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Of course, if I said,

“I don’t need lunch,”

or,

“I’ll eat dinner out,”

my father-in-law would simply find something for himself.

It would not cause any real difficulty.

Still, I find it hard to say that.

We live together, so it somehow feels unnatural for each of us to eat entirely on our own.

At the same time, we are not close enough for me to ask enthusiastically,

“What would you like to eat today?”

We have maintained this delicate distance while living together for more than a year.

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Our relationship will probably not suddenly become closer.

Nor are our conversations likely to increase dramatically.

When I said this to my wife, she replied,

“It would be good if things simply stayed as they are.”

“What do you mean?”

I asked.

“It would be hard if he developed dementia,” she said.

She had a point.

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My father-in-law worries that he may develop dementia one day.

His own father lived with dementia for about fifteen years.

That is why he works on number puzzles and crosswords almost every day.

I think it is his way of trying to preserve his cognitive abilities.

Personally, I suspect that talking with family and friends may be just as important as solving puzzles.

Then again, I had spent the previous day at a hot spring partly to avoid talking with him, so I am hardly in a position to sound self-righteous.

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My father-in-law was born and raised in this area.

He still has childhood friends and people he has known for many years.

He also participates in Lions Club activities.

Today, he went to the youth baseball event through that connection.

He has plans.

He has people to meet.

He has a role to play.

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Since moving to Chiba, our lives have gradually settled into place.

Perhaps our relationship has not deepened so much as our respective distances have become established.

We do not force ourselves to become close.

We speak when necessary.

We spend our time separately under the same roof.

And occasionally, the two of us eat lunch together.

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I hope my father-in-law remains healthy and free from dementia for as long as possible.

I hope he continues writing his plans on the whiteboard, going out to Lions Club

activities, and coming home saying,

“I’ll eat lunch at home.”

That alone is something to be grateful for.

Now, I suppose it is time to boil the somen.