About the time I began feeling restless, the novelty of my presence was also wearing off for my mother and father. Little by little, they tired of me. Anyone, I expect, who's returned to the country for summer vacation or some such occasion has experienced like feelings. After being fussed over excessively for the first week or so, there comes a point where the magic is exhausted, and hospitality drops to the level of indifference or disregard. In the course of my stay, I passed this point. To make matters worse, I always came home with a piece of Tōkyō in me, something alien to my mother and father. In former times, this might be akin to stepping into a Confucian household steeped in Christian beliefs. My mother and father were not at all amenable to the changes they saw. I had no intention of offending their sensibilities, but I couldn't conceal who I was. Despite my best efforts, things would catch their attention. Life at home was an ever-increasing strain. I couldn't wait to return to Tōkyō.
Fortunately, my father's condition seemed stable. There were no indications he was failing. To be sure, we summoned a specialist from afar and had him conduct a thorough examination. He told us nothing we didn't already know. I decided to leave a little before the end of break. Once I announced my plans, my mother and father, true to human nature, entreated me to stay.
"Already? Do you have to go so soon?" my mother asked.
"You can stay a bit longer yet, can't you?" my father added.
I held firm and departed as planned.