その日は朝から降り続いていた雨が夕方になってようやく止んだ、２月の初めの夜だった。会社帰りに軽く飲んでいこうかと言って、後輩と一緒に雨上がりの夜道を、街灯の光を映した水たまりをよけながら、いつも行く隣駅の店に向かって歩いていたとき、ふと、顔に当たる冷たい空気が、昨日までよりもほんのわずかに暖かさを含んでいることに気づいた。長い雨の後の湿った空気のせいだろうか。うっすらと花の香りもするようだ。この時期に香るのは、丸く小さく咲く白い沈丁花しかない。これはもしかすると、今年も来たのだろうか。 すると、同じように黙って横を歩いていた後輩が突然、「今日、春が来ましたね」と言ったのだ。「来たね」と私も言った。私たちはマフラーに顔をうずめ、コートのポケットに手をつっこんだまま、夜ふけの暗がりのなかに同じものを見ていた。 それはまさに前触れであって、春が本格的にやってきたわけではない。なんであれ、きざしとは一瞬の出来事であって、とどまることなく過ぎ去っていってしまう。そして明日からはまた厳しい北風の吹く、冬そのものが続くのだ。しかし、春はもう始まっている。すでに一度、こうして私たちの前に姿を現わしたのだから。 不思議とそれはたいてい２月の初め、暦でいうと立春の前後と決まっていて、早い年は１月の末にやってくる。遅い年でも２月の半ばまでには必ずやってくる。その姿はさまざまで、ふと見上げた空に浮かぶ雲の色であったり、朝起きて窓を開けたときの風の流れであったり、あの日のように夜遅くの香りの訪問だったりもする。おそらくこの見えないきざしを、人々だけでなく、葉を落として冬を立ちつくす木々や、地面の下で寒さをしのぐ生きものたちも感じ取っているのだろう。 今は春たけなわの４月だが、こうして暖かく穏やかな春の日も、２月初めの一瞬の春の訪れから少しずつ変化してきた今日であって、季節はある日突然変わるわけではない。 私は毎年、今日春が来た、と思うと、あの晩の後輩との会話を思い出す。もう何年も会っていないが、彼女は元気だろうか。彼女は今年も春が来る日を息をひそめて待っていただろうか。きっとそうにちがいない。 That day it was a night in early February where it kept raining since morning and finally stopped in the evening. I realized that the cold air that had hit my face was a little warmer than yesterday when we were walking to the restaurant next to the station that we always went to, avoiding the puddles reflecting the street lights of the town on the night street after the rain with my junior because I had invited her for a few drinks on the way home. Maybe it was because of the moist air after a long rain, but it smelled faintly of a flower. All that blooms in this season is the small, round, white fragrant daphne. Perhaps that had come this year, too. Then, my junior who had walked past quietly with me said suddenly, "Spring has sprung today." "It has," I responded. With our hands in our pockets and our faces buried in our scarves, we saw the same thing in the dead dark of the night. It was a precursor and it didn't mean that spring had authentically come. Whatever it was, the sign was an brief fleeting event. And tomorrow the winter itself, where the strong cold northern wind blew, would continue. However, spring had sprung. It had already appeared before us like this. Strangely it is usually at the beginning of February--in the calendar, in the vicinity of the first day of spring--but in early years it came at the end of January. In even late years, it came without fail at mid-February. Its form was many--whether it was the color of the floating clouds you glanced up at, the wind when you opened the window upon waking up in the morning, or the scent that came to visit late one night. Probably not just people, but living beings beneath the earth wintering the cold and the trees that stand motionless shedding their leaves, sense these invisible signs. Now the middle of spring is in April. It isn't that one day the season suddenly changes because even warm, mild spring days like this are days where the weather has changed little by little due to the brief visit of spring at the beginning of February. When I think this year, today spring has come, I will recall the conversation with my junior that night. I haven't seen her for many years now. Could she be doing well? Could she be waiting with bated breath for spring to come this year, too? I'm sure she is. Interview Article with Mrs. Akiko Wakana > Day-to-Day Pilosophies