I, an only child, have been raised with immense love from my parents. Especially my mother, who dotes on me. Even when I made mistakes or misbehaved, she would never get angry; instead, she would smile and forgive me.
As parents, they may have been a bit lenient, but I adored my mother for being that way. One day, as I returned home from school and was watching TV in the living room, the phone rang. It was my mother calling.
“Manami, I’m at the supermarket right now. Could you check if there are any carrots in the refrigerator?” she asked.
“Wait a moment,” I replied and headed towards the kitchen.
As I was about to open the refrigerator, something caught my eye. It was a notebook placed on top of the fridge. I wondered what it was, but I opened the fridge and checked if there were any carrots, informing my mother of the result.
After hanging up the phone, I gently picked up the notebook. It was a worn-out notebook that my mother had always carried with her. I had been curious about this notebook since I was little.
My mother, who always smiled and forgave me no matter what I did. But I remember. Every time I made a mistake or misbehaved, she would write something in this notebook. And it still…
Driven by curiosity and without feeling guilty, I opened the notebook to see what was written inside. Randomly flipping open the pages, I came across something written in the middle:
“Manami’s score for today: -3 points. Remaining: 168 points.”
