Yamiyo no Hotaru

Chapter 27

Housework in the middle to early modern period was, at least physically, incomparably hard work compared to modern times, in which there is an overabundance of convenient household appliances.

Fire making, cooking, and laundry could not all be done by machines, not to mention that these tasks were not the only ones to be done. After all, women were also sent to work in the fields as a matter of course, and they had to work at home and raise their children. So, it is not difficult to imagine that the lives of poor farm women, especially those in the lower social classes, are much more difficult than those in reality, even if it is a slight exaggeration to say that a farm woman becomes an old woman at the age of 30.

In this sense, the boy's mother was very strong and diligent.

"Oh, welcome home."

"...yes, I'm home."

His mother, who was knitting sandals by the light of a single candle in the dark hut, cheerfully greeted the boy after he had finished his work at midnight. At the same time, she started to light a fire on the hearth.

"Forget it, I don't need it. It's a waste of firewood, isn't it? I'll get under the covers and go to bed soon."

"Don't worry about that, child. We were also just cold. Come on, get on with the fire. You're already getting cold..."

The mother snatches the snow-covered straw jacket from the boy and hangs it on the wall, brushing the snow off.

No wonder he protests against her. Still, he reluctantly obeys his mother's words and sits down by the small hearth where the ashes have not accumulated so much and point his hand at the hearth. The warm heat gently warms his chilled body.

"The leftover porridge, I'll reheat it right away."

"I'll do it myself. Why doesn't mom go to bed, too? You've been working all morning anyway. Your body won't be able to handle it."

"That's exactly what I don't want to hear from you. Isn't that better than a child of ten or so who works from morning till midnight?"

At the boy's concerned words, his mother, a white-skinned, thin-skinned peasant typical of the northern regions, sharply scolds him, as if she is offended. A small pot hangs over the hearth, and the leftover porridge from dinner is simmered with water and salt.

"Everyone was sulking, you know? You didn't come home for hours."

The mother takes one look at the next room, which is separated by a sliding door. From the look on her face, the boy's younger siblings must have been very restless.

"It's cold when there are so few of us. It's especially cold today..."

It was impossible for a poor farmer's house to have enough futons and mattresses for everyone, and it was also impossible to heat the room by a hearth while sleeping, and there was no such thing as a bathhouse.

In other words, the least expensive way to survive the harsh northern region winters was to huddle together as a family under a shabby futon to keep warm. And the boy was used as a human body warmer by his younger siblings many times.

"Don't be so quick to say that. Stop being so cynical. You should be a little more open-minded and accepting of others' good intentions. You've been coming home late lately."

The mother offers him a scoop of porridge simmering in a carved wooden bowl. The boy takes it with an indescribable expression on his face, murmurs "Itadakimasu" and sips it slowly.

"...I'll help you knit sandals when I'm done eating."

"Go to sleep, you must be exhausted. The material's almost gone. Besides, the work is almost done. When you got home, I was knitting the last of it."