“Do you want some persimmons?”
My dad asked me this same question every time I went to visit my parents. “Yes, please.”
As soon as I finished saying this, he would get himself up despite his aching body, and brought some ripe persimmons in his both hands. I could feel the cold fresh wind from the persimmons, which tasted so sweet and cool. I gulped them down right there and then. After my dad passed away, I couldn’t have any persimmons that were as delicious as the ones he used to give me. It’s probably because no other persimmons had my dad’s love in them. Come to think of it, my dad always showed me his unchanging love. But I gradually got away from him as I grew up. He probably knew it; when I talked to him on the phone, he only asked me how I was doing and said, “Do you want to talk to Mom?” Then he gave the phone to her. I think my dad wanted to send me a silent message by giving me persimmons as he felt I was growing away from him. He probably wanted to say to me, “I love and care for you a lot!” Whenever winter comes, I miss the times my dad used to ask me, “Do you want some persimmons?” even more.
