My little companion groans and struggles as it slowly makes its way up the hills.
If I were driving alone, I might get a little impatient. But when the person sitting beside me cheers the struggling car on, saying, “Come on! You can do it!”, something changes.
It makes me feel like a child again. I find myself feeling gentle and caring toward the poor little car, and somehow, there is happiness in that.
If I had a powerful, eye-catching car with a big engine, I’m sure the ride would be much more comfortable. But then I probably wouldn’t hear those cheerful cries of “Come on! You can do it!”, and I wouldn’t feel the same affection for a little engine doing its very best.
I suppose this kind of world simply suits me.
What surprises me is how much that feeling has gradually become part of the rest of my life as well. I enjoy living this way, and I don’t find myself wanting to go back to the way things used to be.
It was only after my life changed that I realized this.
The same idea is behind the little outings we organize at Chiduru, which we call our “Outings for Grown-Ups.”
We’re not trying to offer anything luxurious. If anything, we’d like people to experience something closer to the opposite.
Of course, that is very much my own little world, so I know it may not appeal to everyone.
But perhaps, just for a little while…
Traveling together in an old, cramped kei car.
Some people may find it uncomfortable. And because there is less space between people than there would be in a larger car, I can understand why some might initially feel a little awkward.
But as time passes, you gradually get used to being together in that small space—or perhaps I should say, we hope you do.
And somehow, I think the emotional distance between people becomes a little smaller too.
I once heard a story about sailors.
When two crew members got into a fight, they would sometimes be shut together in a tiny storeroom. After a while, someone would go back to check on them, and more often than not, the two would have made up.
Perhaps what I’m talking about is something a little like that.
We’ve been too busy lately to go on picnics very often, but when we do travel somewhere by car, Chiduru’s Mama sometimes prepares a small homemade bento for us.
I sit in the passenger seat and eat it along the way.
And somehow, that little bento just wouldn’t feel right anywhere except in our old kei car, groaning its way down the road…
That may simply be my own peculiar way of thinking.
If we were riding in an expensive luxury car, I think it might take away half the fun.
Actually, I might even feel a little lonely.
That’s just the way it feels to me.
We’re grown-ups, of course.
And perhaps there is a little embarrassment in doing things like this.
But once you get past that embarrassment…
There is something rather lovely waiting on the other side.
Once again, I seem to have wandered into a story that doesn’t make much sense.
But perhaps this is simply what happiness means to us.
It matters less where we go than who we go there with.
It matters less what we eat than who we share the meal—and our time—with.
Perhaps happiness is found in little things like that.
P.S.
Mr. SE laughed and said to me,
“Most people would probably want to hide that part.”
But this is Chiduru.
This is who we are…
So, apparently, I have his approval. 😅
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