Story 70
The Bento Was Bad
It’s been about forty years.
Back when I was a high school student.
At that time, I attended the nearest public high school from my house.
My mother, back then, always made me bento (lunch boxes) for school.
But those bentos were extremely bad.
Normally, aside from the bento, she cooked perfectly good meals that were delicious.
But the bento itself was either too sweet or too salty. Sometimes, there would even be side dishes with a huge amount of chili peppers in them.
Still, because my mother had gone through the trouble of making them for me, I forced myself to eat them without ever complaining.
Eventually, I graduated from high school and married far away, and I didn’t have much chance to see my mother.
Forty years later, she fell ill and passed away.
Shortly before she died, I returned to my hometown.
I wanted to help my sister, who had been caring for our mother alone.
Then, just before she passed, she suddenly murmured:
“You… despite cursing me so much, you’re going to live longer than me, huh…”
The sudden mention of “curse” terrified me.
I had no idea what she meant, so I silently watched my bedridden mother.
She looked at me suspiciously and muttered,
“Bento…”
I remembered the awful bentos from my high school days.
After that, I didn’t really help with her care.
I attended her funeral, but I didn’t participate in the 49-day memorial service or other rituals.
