The Willow Tree

The first short story that I’ve written in Japanese. I’ve translated it back to English. You can find the Japanese version here or at the bottom of this page, after the English version.

The Willow Tree

When I was a little girl, there was a magnificent willow tree growing on a riverbank by my house.

On the way home from school, I often went to the willow. I would spend ages looking at it. Its leaves always seemed as if they were about to cry. I always felt a certain pity for that willow tree, its leaves hanging down wistfully. But, whenever the wind would blow, that willow tree awoke as if from a deep, sorrowful dream—and began to dance. The sound of a hundred pages turning echoed around me as the willow’s leaves, peering deep into some unknown abyss at the centre of the Earth, suddenly swayed with each new gust. The willow tree transformed into a living being, a jellyfish belonging to the deep sea. I was entranced. I watched the ethereal, alien creature before me for hours on end.  

Eventually I stopped playing with my friends in favour of going to the willow tree. I wonder why. It’s not like I didn’t want to play with my friends, or was a troubled child, or had problems at school or at home. I was just intoxicated by that mystifying dance. It was as if my soul burst into an infinite number of strings which were then blown away by the wind and intertwined with the willow tree’s leaves. My soul strings swayed, accompanying the willow in its dance, moved by the rushing wind.

Maybe it was my daily ritual, or my lanky, tall appearance, or a combination of both. I got labelled “willow girl” in school. But even this I didn’t pay any mind. As long as I had the willow tree, my soul had a hearth to return to. My soul was there. Dancing. The world that existed outside the willow tree grew more distant, its presence feeling fainter, thinner. Time spent at school and at home became time spent assaulted by homesickness. I want to go to the tree. To be there and dance with my Willow in the gentle breeze. Please, I just want to be there, now. Quickly.

It was a summer’s day. I remember because even though it was summer, it felt cold. The sort of numb, unfeeling cold that washes over you when you lose something important. As the day’s final, unimportant lesson finished I rushed to pack my things and hurried over to the willow tree. But, instead of the beautiful willow tree rising on the riverbank, there was a small patch of barely dried cement, and a single safety cone placed haphazardly at its edge. My soul had been ripped out at its roots alongside the willow tree.

I stood there for a while. At some point, after standing there quietly for what felt like hours and hours, I noticed that there was an old man standing by my side.

“Such as shame. It was a magnificent willow, too,” the man said, rubbing his white head of hair.
“But, well. They had no choice, young lady. That willow had been sick for a while now.”

A few more minutes passed, and the old man reached into a leather satchel, pulling out a single sheet of paper, and held it out to me.

“Take this, young lady. Please don’t be so sad. The willow won’t come back, that’s true. But the time it spent alive isn’t going anywhere. Here, I painted this looking at that willow. I wanted to give it to you. You were always standing here by that willow tree and watching it. I do hope you’ll take it.”

The old man offered me the colourful piece of paper again. When I finally took it from his hands, he quietly nodded, satisfied, and slowly walked away.

It was a watercolour. A magnificent willow tree growing on a riverbank, its leaves dancing in the soft wind. And beside it a young girl danced, her face full of joy, and brimming with sadness.  

「柳の木」

私の子どもの頃に、家の近くにあった川の土手で立派な柳の木が生えていた。

学校の帰りによくその柳を眺めに行っていた。長い長い間その静かでいつも泣き出しそうな枝葉を、側から見ていた。俯いて悲しそうなあの柳はとても可哀想だった。けれど、風が吹きだすと柳は深い悲しい夢から起き上がり、舞い始めていた。小説のページ百枚が同時に捲られるような音が響き渡る。地球の奈落の底を探し求めていたあの枝葉は俄かに揺れる。まるで深海に生きるべきクラゲの一種になっていたその柳の木は私を完全に魅了していた。その宇宙からやってきたような生物の幽艶な舞いを何時間も見ていた。

いずれ友達と遊ぶ約束を破って柳を眺めに行くようになった。なんでだろう。別に友達と遊びたくない訳じゃなかったし、特に悩みでもなかった気がする。只々ひたすらその不可思議な舞いに陶酔していた。まるで私の魂が無数の糸になり、その糸が風に散らされてその柳の枝葉に絡まれた。魂の糸が枝葉と一緒にそよ風に吹かれて舞った。

日頃の行いのせいか長身痩躯のせいか、学校で「柳女」ってあだ名がつけられた。それも別に構わなかった。柳さえいれば私には魂の拠り所があった。私の魂はそこに居てそこで舞っていた。柳を目の前にしてない世界は段々薄れて疎く感じた。学校に過ごしていた時間も家に過ごしていた時間も郷愁でたまらなくなった。ああ、早くあそこへ行きたい。早くそよ風に吹かれて踊りたい。早く、早くあそこに居たい。

それは夏の日だった。夏なのに、不思議に肌寒かった。大切ななにかを失うときに感じる寒さだった。意味のない授業を終えていつもどおりすぐ柳の元に急いで行った。けれども柳の代わりに川の土手にあったのはまだ乾いてさえないセメントコンクリートと、適当に置かれた一本のセーフティコーン。私の魂は柳とともに根ごとひん抜かれていた。

私は暫くそこに立っていた。そこで数十分沈黙に立つといつしか側にやってきたじいさんに気がついた。

「ひでぇのう。あんな立派な木を伐るとはねぇ。」

じいさんは白髪に手をやった。

「でもまぁ。仕方あるまい、嬢ちゃん。この柳は大分前から病気だったでのう。」

じいさんは持っていた鞄の中から紙一枚を取り出し、私に差し伸べた。

「ほれぃ、嬢ちゃん。そう落ち込むな。木はもう戻れんが、生きてきた時間は消えない。これ、あの柳を見て描いたもんだ。嬢ちゃんに受けてほしい。いつもここに立ってあの木を眺めてたろう。」

じいさんはまた私に絵を差し伸べた。受け取るとじいさんは満足そうに頷いてからゆっくりと去って行った。

水彩画だった。川の土手に生えている立派な柳の木の舞い上がる枝葉と一緒に、嬉しそうに空しそうに、一人の少女が踊っている。